24 Hours
by saxwarrior
Summary: Inspired by 24, this story follows the Auror Office and Harry Potter as the Jack Bauer character as they race against the clock to stop Dark Wizards, with resistance outside and inside the Ministry. Set nearly two years after The Battle of Hogwarts.
1. 12:00 Midnight to 1:00 AM

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: Inspired by the TV series, 24, I wanted to write a post-Hogwarts Harry Potter fanfiction where Harry is the Jack Bauer character and has to race against time to stop Dark Wizard attacks. Should be interesting, at any rate.

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The following takes place between 12:00 AM and 1:00 AM on March 7, 2000

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12:00:00... 12:00:01... 12:00:02... 12:00:03...

A single man stepped out of a cab in front of Oxford University. Being so late at night as it was, there were few students around, but civilian casualty wasn't what he was going for. He counted out the Muggle money he needed to pay his driver and handed it over wordlessly.

As the cab pulled away, the man pulled his coat (a raincoat, although the sky was clear), closer for warmth and to keep himself hidden from what individuals were about.

He reached Mansfeld College and cast a look around. There was no one about to witness him. He opened the doors and ghosted through the threshold. He removed his wand and uttered in a low voice, "_Maledic loco" . _A dark tremor swept throughout the building and it was still. He waved his wand over his head slowly repeating the incantation and the tremor swept through like the ghost of a shadow each time he called it. Finishing his work, he left the building through the same door he entered.

The wizard crossed the lawn away from Mansfeld and found a suitable place for him to wait. He counted the seconds in his head... three... two... one.

The building erupted in a shadowy explosion; what few students were still in the building screamed as the darkness overpowered them and the building caved in on itself. The curse was over in a matter of minutes and the night was suddenly still. What remained of the building was nothing more than a ruin of stone and wood.

The wizard grinned with malice at his work. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry got wind of the attack and then they would surely send Aurors to investigate.

12:04:52... 12:04:53... 12:04:54... 12:04:55...

The Muggle Awareness alarm was going off in the Improper Use of Magic Office and the one worker there that night, a young witch named Sasha Fort, hastily waved her wand to silence it and then checked the Magical Quill that wrote down on a sheet of parchment what kind of magic was detected where.

She watched as the quill scribbled, "Unidentifiable Dark Magic used on Mansfeld College on University of Oxford campus, perpetrator unknown, no known witch or wizard residing in the area,"

Sasha had to clamp her hand over her ears as the alarm went off again, she silenced it as the quill began writing again, just beneath the last notice;

"Unidentifiable Dark Magic used in downtown London, perpetrator unknown, no known witch or wizard residing in the area,"

Sasha felt her stomach drop; two curses in Muggle-only locations? Her bad feeling only worsened when the alarm went off for the third time and the quill, which had only just finished the last notice began scribbling furiously again.

"Unidentifiable Dark Magic used in Muggle suburb in Wales, perpetrator unknown, no known witch or wizard residing in the area."

No sooner had the quill finished when the alarm rang again; Sasha, half expecting it, silenced it quickly and read as the quill wrote, "Unidentifiable dark magic used in town center of Kildare, perpetrator unknown, no known witch or wizard residing in the area."

Sasha was relieved that the alarm did not go off again, but her relief was short-lived. Four dark magic curses in the time span of about two minutes? And all in areas populated solely by Muggles? This was out of her jurisdiction. She took the parchment and ran out of her office.

Down the hall, towards the lift, was the Auror office. Her heart sank as she saw how empty it was; few Aurors were on duty this late at night.

"Excuse me," she said to the nearest wizard sitting at his desk, reading a report. "I need to show you this."

The nameplate on the desk read V. Gough, and he was a younger looking wizard, clearly new to the program, possibly only recently passing his qualifications. He took the report and read over it. "When did these happen?" he asked.

"Just now," she said, "each one just after the other."

Gough rubbed his forehead. "This is big..." He stood up and crossed the office. "Potter," he called out.

Sasha's tongue seemed to swell in her mouth as she saw the man V. Gough was addressing.

He was sitting at his desk, also reading over a report. She saw his untidy, long black hair and even seated, she could tell he was quite tall. As he turned, she saw his thin but hard features and the rounded spectacles over his bright green eyes, and though his bangs nearly hid it, the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter.

"What is it, Vance?" he asked, and his voice, while young, irradiated power and confidence. Sasha, nursing a small affection for the man, tried to hide it. Stop acting like a giddy schoolgirl, she chided herself.

"Take a look at this," Gough said, and Potter took the parchment and read over it, his eyes narrowed.

"She said they all happened at almost exactly the same time," Gough said. Sasha nodded as Potter glanced over her.

"I've got to call everyone in," said Potter, "this is a big deal. Who else is in this late?"

Gough checked the cubicles around them, "Hele is, sir."

"You two, get to the nearest one, and find out what kind of curse it is, and how many Muggles have been killed or injured. Take some Obliviators with you."

"Mr. Robarbs should be notified," Gough said, and Potter nodded. "I'll do that. You should go now."

"Yes, sir," said Gough as he went to fetch Hele, another young Auror, and Sasha, not wishing to be awkward, quickly left Potter's presence.

Harry took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into his personal fireplace to call Gawain Robarbs, head of the Auror Office. He got the feeling that this was going to be a later night than usual.

12:15:36... 12:15:37... 12:15:38... 12:15:39...

Hermione sat up in the bed, refastening her bra. She felt the mattress shift under the weight of someone moving closer to her and she smiled a little.

Ron's fingers met hers and took the bra strap, fastening it for her. She closed her eyes as he kissed her shoulder and she couldn't resist making a little sound of pleasure.

"Don't know how you can be so relaxed," murmured Ron against her neck. "I know if I had a presentation like yours tomorrow, I wouldn't be."

Hermione turned to face him and kissed him softly. "I have faith in our Wizengamot. Some of them may still be a bit misguided, but I wholeheartedly believe that my presentation will make them see reason."

"I have faith in you," said Ron brushing her hair back, "and your... persuasive skills..." He gestured at his nude state on the bed and Hermione had to laugh. She kissed him again. "I love you."

"Love you, too," he said, tenderly.

Their lovely moment was interrupted by a rapping coming from the downstairs kitchen window.

"Sounds like we've got a letter," Ron said, as he sat up and pulled his pants on. "I'll get it. You stay here," he smiled seductively and left the room.

He stepped down the stairs quickly and entered the kitchen. Outside the window was a long-eared barn owl whom Ron immediately recognized as Colombe, Percy's new owl.

Ron opened the window and allowed Colombe to hop onto the counter and he took the letter clamped in her beak.

He dug a butter knife out of one of the kitchen drawers (his wand was upstairs) and slit it open. There was Percy's neat scrawl.

_Ron, _

_Meet me as soon as you can. This is about Hermione's presentation tomorrow. It's a very sensitive issue. Don't tell her where you're going. I'm at the office. Hurry, please. _

_Percy_

Ron frowned down on the letter. Requesting a secret meeting at midnight was very unlike Percy, but the way he was speaking sounded urgent. And perhaps he was right, he ought to keep this from Hermione for now.

He stuffed the letter in his pocket and sent Colombe back out the window, only to be met with another letter, this time a Ministry leaflet that must've flown to the house very quickly.

Ron ripped it open without the butter knife this time. It was Harry's handwriting.

_Crisis. All Auror Office staff report to the office immediately. Curses in four Muggle-inhabited areas. Aurors are investigating scene of one in Downtown Muggle London. Robarbs has been informed. _

_Harry Potter_

Oh, good, Ron thought. An excuse.

He ran back up the stairs two at a time. "I've got to go in to the office," he said, hastily to the half naked woman lying in the bed before him. He reached into his closet and pulled his dark Auror robes over his head.

"At this hour?" Hermione asked, supporting herself on her elbows.

"We have a crisis," he said. "Can't imagine what. I'll try to be home soon."

She bit her lip in an unsure kind of way as Ron pulled on his boots and pocketed his wand and his badge.

"Stay safe," she said as he left through the door.

12:24:43... 12:24:44... 12:24:45... 12:24:46...

The Aurors Apparated a safe distance away from the Muggle emergency vehicles that had arrived on the scene, along with their team of obliviators. They could see and hear the sirens. The curse had been placed on an almost empty office building in the downtown London area. The firemen were searching the wreckage at a complete loss as to what had happened to the building. It appeared to have burned down without a fire.

"You two," said one Auror, "check the surrounding area for any Muggle witnesses." To the third, "You come with us."

The two Aurors and the Obliviator reached the scene and the Obliviator immediately set to work reconstructing the building, much to the first responder's bewilderment, when the other two Obliviators arrived and began to erase their memories.

As they worked, they were being watched. Several Dark Wizards, including the man who'd set the curse on Oxford University were waiting for them, having been tipped off which site the Ministry would first investigate. One of the wizards twirled his wand testily as he watched the Aurors. "Should we take them?"

Another man said, "No, let them repair the building and Obliviate the Muggles first."

They watched in silence as the Aurors reconfigured the building to the way it once was and the Obliviators finished the last of the Muggles.

"Wait," the wizard commanded and the Aurors and the Oblivators started making their way back to the spot where it would be safe to Apparate, unknowingly closer to the Dark Wizard's hiding spot.

"Kill the Obliviators," he whispered, "but we want the Aurors alive."

The three others raised their wands.

"Now."

"Avada Kedavra!" all three wizards shouted and each curse hit an Obliviator who dropped as easily as a discarded piece of trash.

The Aurors reacted at once, shooting Stuns in the direction of the wizards, who easily deflected them.

The Dark Wizards swooped upon them and disarmed them at once.

The man who placed the curse on the office building spoke. "Aurors, what are your names?"

The two young men glanced at each other, unable to hide the fear in their eyes. Finally, one spoke up. "My name is Gough, and my partner is Hele."

"Luckily for you, Officers Gough and Hele," the man said, leaning over them, "My instructions are to capture not kill."

He raised his wand and shot a whip of rope to bind them together.

"Let's go," he said. He pulled out a silver medallion, the chain of which the other three took hold of. It acted as a Portkey as the Aurors were whisked away with their captors.

12:31:37... 12:31:38... 12:31:39... 12:31:40...

Ron had Flooed into the atrium to avoid getting caught up with everything going on in the Auror Office just now. He really needed to talk to Percy first. The lift let him off on the lowest level, Minister for Magic and Support Staff. Percy was no longer Special Assistant to the Minister, but he was a high-ranking advisor and sat in on the Wizengamot, which may have been why Percy wanted to speak with Ron the night before Hermione's presentation.

He knocked on Percy's office door and waited a few seconds before it opened and Ron's elder brother hurried him through, muttering soft greetings.

"Perce, what's this all about?" Ron asked, bewildered.

Percy looked flustered, glancing around his office as though he wasn't sure they weren't alone. Then, he looked Ron dead in the eye and said, "You've got to convince Hermione to cancel her presentation."

Ron blinked. "You can't be serious."

"On the contrary, I can't joke."

Ron stared, mouth somewhat open. "How can you expect her to just drop it? She's spent months working on it, not to mention weeks trying to schedule her appointment in."

Percy sat down and indicated Ron do as well. "Ron," he spoke, as if his brother was dumb, "you know as well as I do that her ideas aren't going to fly with the current Wizengamot."

Ron's adam's apple seemed to catch in his throat and he didn't say anything for a moment. Then, slowly, "Maybe Hermione's presentation will convince some of them..." but Percy was shaking his head before Ron finished the sentence.

"Ron, you remember how people treated her back in school when she started this spew business don't you?"

"It's not spew!" Ron said, angrily (ironically). "It's the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare!"

"Good God, she's won you over," Percy said, disheartened.

"Well I sleep with her," said Ron, offhandedly. "But Perce, you know how Hermione gets. Nothing I can say will persuade her not to try and establish a House-Elf Liaison Office, even if I wanted to."

Percy removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, wearily. "You're probably right. But after her presentation, we're going to discuss it and I can't stand up for her just because she's dating my brother."

Ron locked eyes with the older man. "You can stand up for her because it's the right thing to do."

"All the same," said Perce. "I just hope to God she isn't laughed out of that courtroom."

Ron grimaced. "I do too. But, who knows? Maybe she won't be."

Percy said nothing.

"Listen," said Ron, standing up. "I've got to get to the Auror office. There's a crisis going on. I can't be bothered with this until the crisis is over."

He started walking toward the door. "Don't tell Hermione we spoke, okay?"

Percy nodded. "Of course."

Ron nodded his gratitude and left the office. Percy waited until he couldn't hear Ron's footsteps, then pulled out a quill and parchment, and he began to write a letter.

_Dear Ursula_

12:40:09... 12:40:10... 12:40:11... 12:40:12...

Harry remained standing as the rest of the Auror office dispersed to their assigned duties. The Head of the Office, Gawain Robarbs had filled everyone in once they were all in- Harry had no clue why Ron wasn't there. Maybe he'd missed his Ministry memo.

Harry noticed the lift moving and several more Auror office workers filed in, but Ron was not among them. Harry decided to fill them in on the situation and walked toward them. As he did, he noticed Hele's empty desk. Gough and Hele should've checked in by now, he thought.

He reached the latecomers and told them everything he knew. They thanked him and made their way to their desks. Harry watched them go, his eyes sweeping the office.

As they did, he made eye-contact with Robarbs, the only Auror important enough to have his own private office. Robarbs subtly nodded his head, indicating he wanted Harry to meet him in his office in private.

Harry nodded and made his way past the building. As he did so, he turned and saw the lift opening once again to admit Ron. He considered going back to him and filling him in, but thought better of it. Robarbs was not a man to put on hold.

He entered the office and shut the door behind him. Robarbs was standing, so Harry decided he would too. Robarbs was a tall black man with a thin mustache and a serious expression. He had a bit of a hunch and always looked like he was about to tip over forward.

"I've just been contacted by my source at the Muggle fire department," Robarbs said. "Apparently, after our Aurors investigated the curse and the Obliviators wiped the memories of the first responders, they found the Obliviators a hundred yards away, dead."

Harry let out an involuntary gasp. Three Obliviators dead. And only yesterday, they'd lost two Aurors and their entire families; their deaths were still being investigated. "It looks like they were ambushed," said Robarbs.

Harry cleared his throat. "There were four curses set off at once. And there were men waiting for the Aurors and Obliviators to show up at the one we send them too?"

"I know what you're thinking. Sounds like someone had inside information," Robarbs growled. The amount of corruption within the Ministry, even two years into the new administration, was still daunting.

"Potter, I know I've been hard on you the last couple of years. When the Minister came to me and demanded I bring you in without even testing you, I was doubtful, but you've proven yourself more than capable, reliable, efficient." Robarbs paused here, as if too much praise was bad for him. "In short, you're the only one in this office I trust with this information."

Harry nodded. "I understand."

Robarbs sat down, wearily. "I want your opinion. What do you think we should do?"

Harry bit his lip thoughtfully and glanced away, thinking hard. "Our priorities have to be Gough and Hele. We need to find out where they've been taken, and arrange a rescue."

"We already know," said Robarbs, handing Harry a piece of parchment. "The girl from Inappropriate Use of Magic ran up this notice ten minutes ago, reporting an unauthorized Portkey from the site of the curse our boys were investigating to a small village outside Southhampton."

"Didn't they know Portkeys can be tracked?" asked Harry, reading over the Unauthorized Portkey notice.

"Possibly not," said Robarbs, "it's not common knowledge."

"Or maybe they had someone in Department of Magical Transportation who didn't fall through for them?" Harry suggested.

"I'll make some inquiries," Robarbs said. "Harry, this may be asking too much, but..." he trailed off and Harry glanced up.

"I want you to go after Gough and Hele alone. As I said, you're the only one I trust, and I can't risk sending a team with you who could just as easily turn against you."

"Sir, with respect," Harry said, "you can trust Ron Weasley."

Robarbs made a skeptical face and Harry realized that it wasn't worth the risk. "I think I can handle them," he admitted.

"Good," said Robarbs. "Here's the address. You okay apparating on that alone?"

"I'll be fine," said Harry.

He focused determinedly on the address and in an instant he was gone. He was some forty meters from the nearest building and the road was empty. A light rainfall blurred his vision and he had to draw his robes tighter for warmth. He drew his wand, imperturbed his glasses the better to see through the rain, and skulked forward.

12:52:01... 12:52:02... 12:52:03... 12:52:04...

As Albus Dumbledore had told him years before, magic always leaves traces. He scanned the first building he came to with a handy spell (_Magia Revelio) _and came up with nothing.

He started to make his way for the next building when the headlights of a car passed and Harry quickly hid himself in the shadows. He crept to the next house and used _Magia Revelio _this time to better effect.

He used _Alohomora _on the door and opened. He lit his wand and cast the light around the dark building. He saw into the room further in and immediately recognized the sight of blood.

Against his better judgement, he rushed forward without clearing the rest of the house. He found himself in a kind of study and Gough and Hele were both on the floor, bleeding profusely. Hele was already dead and Harry could tell Gough was nearly so.

"Harry," Gough gasped, through the blood in his mouth. "It's a trap sir... they wanted... you..."

Harry's eyes widened in fear. "Where are they now?"

Gough didn't answer as his eyes rolled back into his head and Harry knew he was lost. Harry looked at the wall and saw a _Daily Prophet_ pinned to it. The picture on the cover was himself, nearly a year ago, along with Ron, Neville and two other Aurors... Harry's heart stopped for an instant.

The two Aurors who were murdered mere hours ago. The five of them were being targetted because of an assignment.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry shouted and a silvery stag burst from the end of his wand. "Warn Ron!" Harry ordered, and the stag stamped its hoof and soared away.

Harry readied his wand and turned to run outside when the house was blown apart around him. He was knocked off his feet and when he landed, he landed on hard, wet earth. His glasses were askew and as he straightened them, he felt someone grab him roughly.

"We've got Potter," he heard a voice say.

"Good," another replied. "We use him as bait for Weasley and Longbottom."

12:59:57... 12:59:58... 12:59:59... 1:00:00


	2. 1:00 AM to 2:00 AM

The following takes place between 1:00 AM and 2:00 AM.

1:00:00... 1:00:01... 1:00:02... 1:00:03...

Ron was working damage assessment on the Kildare curse from his desk. Initial reports from the Muggle police (and the Auror Office's wizard on the inside) was one death and three injuries. Altogether, not as bad as it could have been. The town center would've been more busy in the daytime when more Muggles were out.

Why would they attack if they had almost no Muggle casualties? Ron wondered. He started reading through a file on the one Muggle killed, an Irish teenager, when suddenly, a flash of silver light appeared in Ron's cubicle and Ron instantly recognized it as a message Patronus from Harry.

It said in Harry's voice, "Ron, what's left of the Requiters are behind these attacks. They're targeting the team that took them down last year. Gough and Hele are already dead. If I haven't returned to the office by now, I'm probably captured. You need to get to Hogwarts and warn Neville!"

The silver stag dissolved in the air and left Ron. The Requiters were a radical Dark Magic group. They believed that wizards generally misused magic as it was meant to be, and some of its members even sought to return magic to its rightful owners, some ancient pagan gods or something. Last year, Harry, Ron, and Neville plus two veteran Aurors, had put a stop to it. The two vets were killed yesterday. Now, they were after the other three.

Ron grapped his wand and wrapped his cloak around his neck as he sprinted for the fireplace. As he passed Robarbs, he called, "Harry just messaged me! Neville Longbottom's in trouble!"

Ron didn't wait around to see if Robarbs comprehended. He grabbed a fistful of floo powder, leapt into the fire and shouted, "Hogwarts!"

The familiar rush of green flames overtook him and he arrived in what used to be Professor McGonagall's office. Ron rushed to the door leading to the private room in the back where Neville lived.

He burst the door open and heard the familiar snoring coming from the bed. "Neville, wake up!" Ron shouted as he shook him roughly.

The young teacher's eyes shot open and he looked around. "Whazzappenin? Whazgoinon? Ron?"

"There's no time to explain, Neville," said Ron. "Get dressed, hurry!"

Sensing Ron's urgency, Neville stood and did as he was told. "What's this about?" he asked as he pulled up some jeans.

"The Requiters are back."

Neville's eyes flashed.

"They've taken Harry and they're coming after us next!"

"Shh!" said Neville. "Listen."

In the other room, they heard the door creak open. "They're here," Ron whispered.

Neville straightened his cloak and readied his wand. Ron stood just to the left of the door frame.

The doorknob jiggled a bit, then was turned and the door pushed open silently.

Ron pointed his wand directly into the darkness. "Lumos."

The room was suddenly illuminated and all three intruders were caught unawares.

"Stupefy!" Neville shouted and one went down. Ron joined in on the attack but the other two Requiters fell back and fled the room.

Ron pointed his wand at the fallen Requiter, a middle-aged man with a short beard and big mustache. "Incarcerous!" he cried, and a jet of ropes tied the old man down.

"I know him," said Neville. "His name is Barry Cruss. Did some time in Azkaban for use of dark magic a few years ago."

He did have the Azkaban look about him, Ron thought. He kneeled down and pointed his wand at Cruss's face. "Tell me where they've taken Harry Potter."

1:11:32... 1:11:33... 1:11:34... 1:11:35...

Hermione, having abandoned the dream of sleep a half hour earlier, sat at her kitchen table reading over her notes for tomorrow.

She couldn't help but feel anxious and excited for tomorrow. She admitted, her chances weren't great, but if she played her cards right, this House Elf Liaison office might pull through. She could do it. She had to.

For the second time that night, there was a sharp rapping at her kitchen window. She absentmindedly flicked her wand in the window's direction to open it and let the owl in. It soared over the table and dropped the letter, then soared back out before Hermione even glanced at it. Odd, she thought. She started to pick up the letter, then something caught her eye.

There seemed to be a greenish tint along the edge of the letter. She pointed at the letter with her wand and slit it open, confirming her suspicions. The envelope spilled a bit of pus on the table and Hermione immediately cleaned it up with her wand.

Taking the letter curiously, Hermione unfolded it to reveal the letters cut out of newspapers and magazines like when she received hate-mail in her fourth year.

_Filthy Mudblood!_ (Original, thought Hermione.)

_I heard about your elf-liaison office presentation! If you present it to the Wizengamot tomorrow, I will curse you and your family with a thousand and one Cruciatus Curses! Leave our society the way it is, Muggle!_

Hermione set the letter down, somewhat disturbed. She had expected opposition of course, but threats of illegal curses? Her stomach twisted and she mulled the letter over.

It was always possible that the sender couldn't be taken up seriously, but it was equally possible that she had pissed off some very old-fashioned wizards.

That being decided, Hermione decided to at least take the letter to Ron and see what he thought. She hurried upstairs to change.

1:17:49... 1:17:50... 1:17:51... 1:17:52...

The Auror interrogation room wasn't like Muggle interrogation rooms, with a table, video monitors, and a mirror. It was more old-fashioned than that.

Not unlike the courtrooms downstairs, there was a restraining chair in the center and a magical quill and scroll that documented everything said in the room. A copy was in the Director's office, so in a way, the room was monitored.

Ron and Neville pushed Cruss into the chair and its chains instantly bound his hands and feet.

The Auror and former Auror exited the room and went to Robarbs' office.

The old wizard asked gravely, "Any word from Potter yet?"

"No," said Ron. "We were going to interrogate Cruss."

"He won't talk," said Robarbs. "I watched Kingsley Shacklebolt interrogate him myself years ago when he was first brought in. He's a tough one to break and Potter might not have the time."

Ron and Neville exchanged a look. "What do we do, then?" asked Neville, uncomfortably.

Robarbs flicked his wand so that the door to his office closed and locked. "I already told Potter this. I didn't want to tell anyone else, but Potter seems to think you two can be trusted." Robarbs let out a deep sigh, then, "The Auror Office is compromised."

Ron and Neville both tensed. "You mean we've got a mole?" asked Neville, eyeing the other Aurors through the window.

Robarbs nodded. "Yes. That's how they caught the Aurors and Obliviators at those sites so quickly after they were sent."

Ron noticed his throat run dry. "What do we do?" he asked.

"We have to expose them," said Robarbs.

He sat at his desk and wrote something on a piece of parchment, then passed it to Ron. "Kindly witness this, Weasley." Robarbs stood up and began rummaging behind his desk for something.

Ron held it against the desk and took Robarbs' pen. "What is this, sir?"

"Directive authority to spy on workers within the Auror office. Longbottom, help me with this." Neville stepped forward to help lift a large black board.

"This document can place a spell on the quills in the office," Robarbs said, "recording all messages written so that they appear on this black board. I'm going to make an announcement that an attempt was made to capture Potter but it failed and he was moved to a safe house. Then, we monitor the board until we catch the mole sending a message to his superiors on where we're keeping Potter."

Neville scratched the back of his neck. "I'm not entirely comfortable with this, sir," he said.

"We've got no choice, Longbottom," Robarbs snapped as he headed toward the door. "I've lost four Aurors in the last twenty-four hours. I'll be damned if I lose a fifth."

Neville and Ron watched from the office as Robarbs reached the center and called out authoritatively, "Everyone, may I have your attention?"

The entire office was still as Aurors and desk jockeys alike paused their work to listen to the Head Auror. "This crisis has reached a whole new level. Gough and Hele are dead and an attempt was made on Potter's life. He's currently at a safe house hidden in Cloverhill, outside of Aberdeen. We believe the perpetrators behind these attacks are the Requiters. If you don't know who they are, find someone to bring you up to speed. I want everyone at a hundred percent tonight. It's gonna be a long one."

The office returned to work and Neville and Ron watched the blackboard begin to fill up with workers writing messages and memos.

Robarbs returned to the office to watch the blackboard. "Erase any that aren't important to finding out who the mole is. Make room for more. Don't miss anything."

Ron and Neville nodded "Yes, sir," and set to work.

1:30:15... 1:30:16... 1:30:17... 1:30:18...

Harry was taken to a dark building. After the Requiters had overpowered him, they had thrown a rucksack over his head and then Apparated him somewhere. From the smothered footsteps, the soft echo, and the smell of dust, Harry guessed they were in an abandoned building somewhere.

"Vejovis," said a voice.

Harry's head turned in the direction of the voice, but he couldn't see much through the rucksack, only a dim light.

"We failed to capture Weasley and Longbottom."

"No matter. We have Potter. They will come to us." The voice had a peculiar accent that Harry couldn't place. Something from the Mediterranean, maybe.

They shoved Harry into a seated position on a very uncomfortable chair, and bound his arms with rope. The rucksack came off and Harry saw the man they called Vejovis. He was old, and he had a long gray beard that flowed like snakes from his chin, reminding Harry terribly of Voldemort's Dark Mark.

"I'm going to write a ransom letter to the Auror Office. The rest of you, secure him and don't underestimate him. He may only be nineteen years old, but he's a damn good Auror."

Harry watched as Vejovis stalked out of the room. Harry looked up at his captives, three equally ugly middle-aged wizards. "So, when he says secure...?" Harry prompted.

The tallest of the three wizards grabbed Harry's hair and yanked his head back, exposing his neck. One of the other wizards grinned evilly and touched his wand to Harry's adam's apple. The wizard started forming the words to a slashing spell.

Harry pushed off the ground with his feet, tilting the chair backwards to the point of falling. Despite his vertigo, Harry kicked out and knocked the wand away just as the curse came out. It hit the wizard who had been holding Harry's hair. The wizard released it as he crumpled in pain.

Summoning all his strength, Harry broke the arm-rests off the chair and quickly spun his hands forward. The two pieces of wood still tied to his wrists each hit one of the other wizards, and they fell with a satisfying thumping noise.

Harry seized the moment and bolted for the door in search of an exit.

1:37:33... 1:37:34... 1:37:35... 1:37:36...

Hermione entered the Auror office with trepidation. She'd expected it to be busy since Ron said they had a crisis, but it seemed as if everyone was in at this late hour. The entire office was alive with chatter.

Hermione quickly made her way to Ron's desk to discover it empty. Thinking Ron must be in the field, she thought to go ask Gawain Robarbs, the Head Auror, about it.

She knocked appropriately on Robarbs' door and a short moment later, it opened.

"Hermione?"

"Neville!" Hermione flung her arms around her old friend and hugged him eagerly. "It's so good to see you! It feels like it's been ages!"

"Yeah, it has," Neville agreed as they split.

"Hermione?" asked Ron, appearing around Neville.

"Ron, I need to speak to you," said Hermione. "It was really good to see you Neville," and without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him away from Robarbs's office and out of earshot from anyone on the floor.

"Hermione what are you doing here?" asked Ron, sounding more worried than cheerful at seeing her.

"I just got this letter," Hermione said, and she showed him the threat.

Ron's eyes moved left to right as he read it, his expression sour.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked. "Should I take him seriously?"

Ron didn't answer immediately. "I don't know. It looks like an empty threat, but people in support or opposition to a cause can be pretty extreme. I wouldn't just dismiss it, but there's not really much I can do from here."

"But you're an Auror," said Hermione, taking the letter back and folding it into its envelope.

"I know, speaking of which, we are very busy here and I have to get back to work," said Ron. "Take it down to Patrol and let them handle it. They always have a man on the graveyard shift."

Hermione nodded and left. Ron watched her go until she was out of the office. Then he rushed to his cubicle. Neville would have to handle the blackboard on his own a little while later.

He grabbed a memo and quickly wrote,

_Percy, _

_Someone is threatening Hermione about the liaison office. I know what you're gonna say, that I should be trying to convince her it's a bad idea, but I need to meet again. I can't get away from the Office at the moment, so just don't leave until I can come by._

_Ron_

He sent the memo on its way and hurried back to the blackboard.

1:45:51... 1:45:52... 1:45:53... 1:45:54...

Harry lay crouched in the stairwell. He appeared to be in an old Muggle apartment building. By now, the wizards would be telling Vejovis that he'd escaped and they'd be searching the building for him. He'd tried to apparate, but they had placed anti-apparition spells around the building.

He needed to get to his wand first without being seen, then get outside the building and apparate away.

He heard rushing footsteps and sunk deeper into the shadows. A whole team of wizards were descending to the ground floor, no doubt blocking off the front entrance to the building. A single man stopped by the third floor landing, where Harry was and stood sentry.

Harry breathed silently and deliberately. He had to do this quickly, and without attracting any attention. The sentry was looking down the hallway and Harry rushed silently to his side. In a swift motion, he swiped the sentry's wand from his pocket and silently stunned him in the neck. The sentry was down without a word.

Harry lifted the wand above his head and whispered, "Accio wand!"

The room was silent for a moment, the echo of his words strong in his ears. Then, a high swishing noise approached down the stairwell and Harry held out his hand, his holly wand landing directly in it.

Harry unlocked the door to the closest flat and crossed past a long abandoned kitchen and den to a small balcony. Harry hoisted himself over the rail and dropped down to the patio of the floor below him, then did the same thing to the first floor.

Harry turned himself around and leapt off the first floor past the ground floor and landed on soft earth. He started running as quickly as he could through the dark streets where there were a few other rundown and shoddy looking buildings.

Once he was far enough away, he turned on the spot, apparating away.

1:52:09... 1:52:10... 1:52:11... 1:52:12...

Harry reappeared in Robarbs' office. "Harry!" said Ron who rushed to him, looking over him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Ron," said Harry, and Ron couldn't help but give his best friend a tight hug. Harry looked at the office to see Ron and Neville both leaning over a blackboard, on which scribble was appearing and Ron and Neville had been erasing it.

"We're hunting for the mole in the Auror office, Robarbs' orders," explained Neville.

Harry nodded in understanding. At that moment, Robarbs walked in. "Potter," he said. "Good to have you back. What happened?"

"I was being held at an abandoned building in a Muggle town," said Harry. "The Requiters are good. By now, they'll have relocated and started planning their next move. They're led by an older wizard named Vejovis."

"I'll look the name up," said Ron, moving toward Robarbs' files.

"I think I've got the mole!" said Neville and Harry and Robarbs rushed over.

On the blackboard, it had been scribbled. _If you're still after Potter, he's been moved to a safehouse in Cloverhill. _

"Who's quill wrote that?" asked Robarbs.

Neville held his wand over it, reading carefully. "Ferris Proud."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What?" Proud was a lower level desk jockey for the Auror Office. An older wizard who'd been shuffled from department to department in the Ministry and somehow related to Tonks whose mother, Meda, had vouched for the man. There was no way he could've been involved in groups like the Requiters.

"That's his name, bright as day," said Robarbs. "I'm going to nail this bastard."

Before Harry could react, Robarbs exited the office. He motioned for the Hit Wizard squad standing by to follow him. The muscly wizards with stern faces stepped in time with the Head Auror as he led them to Ferris Proud's desk. Proud looked up when he noticed them coming for him.

"Ferris Proud," said Robarbs. "You are relieved of your duties in the Auror Office and under arrest for aiding in the use of Dark Magic and espionage against the Ministry of Magic."

Proud's voice seemed to catch in his throat and he didn't say a word as the Hit Wizards led him into the interrogation room.

Harry watched Proud, completely pale, being taken away. He locked eyes with Neville and they both said it at the same time.

"He didn't do it."

1:59:57... 1:59:58... 1:59:59... 2:00:00


	3. 2:00 AM to 3:00 AM

The following takes place between 2:00 AM and 3:00 AM.

2:00:00... 2:00:01... 2:00:02... 2:00:03...

Harry opened the door to Robarbs's office and followed the Hit Wizards as they escorted Proud to the interrogation room. Robarbs let them in and stood by the door, waiting for Harry to catch up. "Can you handle this interrogation, Potter?"

"Of course, sir," said Harry. "But I already believe him. The look on Proud's face when you charged him for his crimes and what I know about him convinced me."

Robarbs gave Harry a piercing look. "I know you vouched for this man, Potter," he said, "So I understand if you think this will make you look bad, but now is not the time to be covering your ass."

"I agree, sir," said Harry. "I'm not covering my ass, I really believe he's not responsible."

"Then find a way to prove it," said Robarbs in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. "Get in there and interrogate him."

Without a word, Robarbs walked away, skulking past Neville. "What'd he say?" Neville asked.

"He didn't buy it," said Harry, resentfully. "He thinks I'm worried about my job."

Neville glanced back at Robarbs, who was going over the file on Vejovis with Ron. "I'll get to it, then," Harry said.

He entered the room. The two Hit Wizards had restrained Ferris to the chained armchair. "That won't be necessary," said Harry, waving his wand so the chains unwound. Proud thanked him wordlessly and rubbed his wrists.

"Step outside," Harry instructed and the two men did so.

Once the door was shut, Harry turned to Ferris.

"Harry, thank God," started Ferris, but Harry silenced him.

"I'm not your best friend right now," Harry said. "Don't thank God or anybody else." He started pacing slowly in front of Ferris. "Someone inside the Auror Office has been working with the Requiters. After Robarbs lost four Aurors and I got taken, everything written down in this office was recorded. On your desk with your quill, someone fed the Requiters the bait of the safe-house. They're not dumb enough to fall for it."

Ferris was watching Harry with wide eyes. "You were taken? What happened?"

Harry didn't answer. "Why are you in contact with the Requiters?"

"I'm not!"

"How much are they paying you to spy on the Auror Office?"

"I'm not a spy-"

"Why did you betray my trust?" Harry demanded, yelling now. "You were a good man, I vouched for you and you turn around and do this to me? You would've told them where I was and then they would've come and they would've killed whatever Aurors were assigned to protect me and then they would've killed me. Do you understand that? They would've slit my throat and let my blood spill out on the floor. They tried!"

Ferris was crying. "I never would've done that, Harry! Someone's setting me up! I wouldn't do that!"

Harry stared directly into Ferris's wet eyes. "Stay here," he said in a low voice, leaving the room.

Harry opened the door and left. When he looked back, Ferris was holding his head in his hands, sobbing.

Harry looked across the office to see Robarbs exiting his. The big man was marching toward Harry with an Uncle Vernon-ish look about him. And he had a bottle of Veritaserum. "You didn't push him far enough," he said.

"Yes, I did," Harry said. "He didn't do it, Robarbs, you have to see that."

"People in interrogation lie, Potter," said Robarbs. "That's what they do."

"But Ferris isn't!" said Harry, then he realized his mistake. He'd just called a suspect by his first name.

"You've been through a lot tonight, Potter," said Robarbs. "Go home. Get some sleep." He met Harry's challenging stare. "That's an order."

Robarbs walked past Harry with the Veritaserum and entered the interrogation room himself.

2:12:16... 2:12:17... 2:12:18... 2:12:19...

Hermione had entered the Patrol office nearly half an hour ago and still hadn't spoken to anyone. As she entered, the Patrol Wizard on duty, a tall man with a long black mustache asked her to please wait and then, he'd headed to the back.

Finally, the wizard returned. "Good evening, madam. My name is Patrolman Myopite. How may I help you?"

Hermione stood tall and cleared her throat. "My name is Hermione Granger and I'm scheduled for a presentation before the Wizengamot in..." she checked her watch, "Six hours. A little less than an hour ago, I received this letter at my kitchen window."

She handed Patrolman Myopite the cut-and-paste threat.

"And you're bringing this to Patrol why?" asked Myopite.

Hermione gaped. "Because it's threatening me with dark magic," Hermione said. "I know Magical Law and that threatening the use of dark magic is illegal.

The bored looking Patrol wizard sighed. "Very well, let me take a look at the letter, then," he said and once she handed it to him, he turned around and walked back into the offices once more.

Hermione sighed. There was no way she was going to get enough sleep tonight.

2:16:10... 2:16:11... 2:16:12... 2:16:13...

Robarbs came out of the interrogation room again. Harry was waiting for him. "Still not convinced?" he asked. "Veritaserum just isn't what it used to be."

"I thought I told you to go home and go to bed," Robarbs said. "And you know as well as I do that there are magical means of resisting Veritaserum."

"Sir, I know what happens next," said Harry. "If a suspect's being difficult, you start using magic and by then, he'll be so scared he'll tell you what you want to hear, but I'm telling you sir, Ferris Proud is innocent."

"We have it from his hand that he betrayed you to the Requiters," said Robarbs. "Potter, I'm not going to tell you again. Leave. Go home. Let us handle this."

Robarbs beckoned to the two Hit Wizards who'd escorted Ferris to the interrogation room. "We already know he's guilty, but we need a confession for a Ministry of Magic employee." The three men re-entered the interrogation room.

Harry turned to see Ron approaching. "What's going on?" Ron asked.

"Proud won't believe Ferris, even when it's the Veritaserum talking," Harry said. "That means they're going to be forceful. They'll bully him and bully him until he caves."

Ron looked troubled. "You're sure he's innocent?"

Harry nodded. "Absolutely."

Ron bit his lip anxiously. "Alright, fine. What do we do?"

Harry approached Ferris's desk. He levitated the quill to eye level. "Someone sat at Ferris's desk and used Ferris's quill to write a message to the Requiters. They probably left fingerprints on the quill."

"Fingerprints, like what Muggles use?" asked Ron.

"Yes," said Harry.

"But we don't have any Muggle equipment to find fingerprints," said Ron.

"Or a database of Auror Office employee fingerprints," said Harry. A plan began forming in his mind.

"Ron," said Harry, "I need you to collect everyone's forefinger and thumb prints for both hands on a piece of parchment. Use ink."

"Ok," said Ron. "How do I do that?"

"Make something up," said Harry. "I'm going to go to MI5 and have them scan these for me. Be sure to get Ferris's fingerprints too."

Harry secured the quill in a leather pouch and stuffed it in his Auror robes. Then, he turned on the spot and disapparated.

2:23:33... 2:23:34... 2:23:35... 2:23:36...

On a separate level of the Ministry of Magic, the Department of Mysteries was mostly vacant. After an incident in 1996 involving a break in by no less than five wanted wizards, security had been improved. The Head of the Department of Mysteries, though, insisted that its own workers work night shifts rather than have security wizards who couldn't be trusted with the sensitive nature of the Department of Mysteries.

Tonight, it was being lorded over by three Unspeakables.

One of them, named Vic Fuller, was concentrating his security on the Hall of Prophecies. What would happen today would surely be seen coming by the gifted seers of the magical community. Fuller was a tool to the Requiters to keep the plans hidden from the Ministry and deliver any prophecies made regarding them directly to Vejovis.

He was on the aisle where new prophecies were constructed. He'd been visiting this part of the Hall regularly for weeks, careful to inspect all new prophecies. Just as he started to leave, though, there was a flash of blue light. Fuller recognized it as a new prophecy being conjured by the enchantment placed upon the Hall. It would take a few minutes for the entire prophecy to be completed, but once it was, he'd be able to find out as to the nature of it.

Fuller cast his eyes over his shoulders. None of his coworkers were in this hall with him. He watched as the magical construction was completed and before him was a little glass ball with a parchment tag. Fuller checked the tag.

_**C.L.C.C to C.T.C **_

_**Zeus Vejovis and Requiters**_

Fuller smiled grimly. Prophecies could only be retrieved by people they were about, and he was a Requiter.

He took the prophecy in his hand, and walked hurriedly to the exit. He needed to get the prophecy to Vejovis at once, and he needed to find out who C.L.C.C and C.T.C were. There was one other thing that needed to be done to kept the prophecy hidden from the Aurors.

Whoever made the prophecy, and whoever it was made to, had to be silenced.

2:30:29... 2:30:30... 2:30:31... 2:30:32...

Harry walked purposefully into the Thames House on the north bank of the River Thames, unlocking it with his wand. This was the headquarters of MI5, the United Kingdom's internal counter-intelligence and security agency.

He took Proud's quill to the fingerprint analysis lab on the fifth floor. He flashed his charmed Auror credentials for admittance into the lab and took the quill to his friend.

"Mr. Hand," Harry said, walking up anxiously.

"I have no idea why I'm here so late," the frizzy-haired forensic specialist said, "but I guess it's good for you that I am."

_Sure, we'll go with that_, Harry thought. He did feel guilty charming the idiot scientist like this, but it was that or break the International Statute of Secrecy.

"I need the fingerprints off this feather as soon as possible," Harry said, handing the quill over. "I suspect there are two sets."

Mr. Hand took the quill with his gloved hands and set it in a large white box with a glass door labeled "Astec." Harry never thought to ask what it meant.

2:34:00... 2:34:01... 2:34:02... 2:34:03...

Hermione had fallen asleep in the uncomfortable lobby of patrol, slumped slightly in one of their chairs.

She awoke with a start when the door to the offices opened and Patrolman Myopite returned.

"Ma'am," he said, and Hermione stood up. "I reviewed the letter and I don't believe it is a serious threat."

Hermione's eyes widened in shock. "Not a serious threat?" she repeated, almost dumbly. "Do you realize how radical conservative wizards can be?"

"Ma'am," he said with an impatient airiness about him. "You brought this letter to Patrol for our opinion, and I've given it to you. It's 2:30 in the morning. You should go home."

Hermione took the letter from Myopite's outstretched hand and walked out the door. She didn't care what Myopite said, she had come too far to be stopped now by some radical wizard taking a swing at her.

Tristan Myopite watched Hermione leave. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief. His mother had always been able to see through his lies, and this Granger witch reminded him strongly of her.

He turned around and headed back into the office. He sat at his desk and fingered his Galleons, his mind wandering. "I'm not sure if I'm being paid enough," he said to the man lounging on the other side of the office.

"You're being paid plenty," the man said in a drawling voice. "If you don't do an awful job, you'll be paid enough to retire, not that you'd want to. I could pull strings and make you head of this Office."

"Please don't," Myopite said. "I'd rather be in Azkaban."

"If you don't do your part to cover this up, you will be," the pale man said.

"I guess it's true what they say," said Myopite. "You're not known for forgiving nature, are you Mr. Malfoy?"

The man laughed. "Mr. Malfoy is my father. Please, call me Draco."

2:40:12... 2:40:13... 2:40:14... 2:40:15...

On another floor of that same building, a similar meeting was going on. "You're telling me you don't know who sent that letter?" Ron asked.

He was standing before Percy's desk, which Percy was seated at, mentally placing the desk between himself and his brother as a barrier. Since becoming an Auror, Ron picked up on things like that.

"Yes," said Percy. "I'm telling you the truth. The game of politics is a dangerous one, and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty, but I'm not about to intimidate one of my brother's closest friends into backing out of a play for power."

Ron took a step back and crossed his arms. "You think Hermione's doing this for a play for power?"

"The very first lesson I learned in this building is that everything is a play for power."

Ron shook his head. "You don't believe anyone who works here works here because they believe in good?"

"People who believe in good become teachers and healers," said Percy. "The Ministry is not a place for the faithful or the hopeful. If that's what Hermione is, she'd do better off running those little sanctuaries for freed elves that have been in the papers. Too bad there's no profit in it."

Ron smirked. "There's profit in it to someone who believes in good."

2:44:32... 2:44:33... 2:44:35... 2:44:36...

Vic Fuller reached the agreed location, a wooden cottage way up north. He brushed some late night slush off his shoulders and entered the building, wiping his feet on the door mat.

"Who's there?" a voice called, and Fuller looked up to see wands pointing at him on all sides.

"Vic Fuller!" he said with raised hands. He reached into the folds of his robes. "I have a prophecy for Vejovis concerning his plans for today. I'm a Requiter, like you!"

The Requiters lowered their wands and one snatched the prophecy from his hands. "What kind of prophecy?"

"The kind that could expose us." Zeus Vejovis stepped forward and took the prophecy. "Good work, my brother. Do you have any idea who the seer is or who it was made to?"

Fuller read the label once more. "The last initials in both are C and it was made in the middle of the night, when people are home. They must be family."

"Or a married couple," said Zejovis. "Four initials for the seer. A first name, middle name, maiden name, and last name."

He turned to the Requiters. "Seers are rare individuals, but surely one of you must at least have heard of a married seeress with a last name that begins with a C?"

Vejovis's followers were quiet a while, then one spoke up. "Chastity Church?"

"Do you know where she lives?" Vejovis asked.

The wizard nodded.

"Bring me the seeress and whoever she made the prophecy to."

"Thank you, Vejovis," and the man pulled his hood up to fight the chill and he stepped out.

"Fuller, sleep here tonight," Vejovis instructed. Fuller nodded. "Thank you, sir." And the man headed toward the bedrooms.

Vejovis turned to the prophecy and held it to his ear, listening.

_The day of Jupiter has come_

_When his vengeance will be swift and cruel_

_The theft of magic will be terrible_

_And there will be death and bloodshed_

_Such wizard-kind have not known in years_

_The day of Jupiter has come_

2:51:11... 2:51:12... 2:51:13... 2:51:14...

"Agent Pierce!"

Harry awoke suddenly at the sound of his cover name and straightened his glasses. He'd fallen asleep outside Mr. Hand's lab, waiting for the fingerprints to come back. "Sorry to wake you," Mr. Hand said as he helped him off the floor.

"Not a problem," Harry said, stretching his back. "What do the prints look like?"

"You were right!" Mr. Hand said. "There were two sets of fingerprints on the feather. I started the scan on the database, but no hits yet."

"That's not necessary," said Harry. "I don't think these fingerprints will be in it. Can I just get an image of the prints?"

"Absolutely," said Mr. Hand, leading the way back into the lab. He pulled up an image of the prints on his computer and send them to the printer.

"Mind if I ask what this is about?" he asked, handing the hard copy to the Auror.

"It's best if you don't," said Harry, leaving hurriedly.

Once outside, he Apparated directly into the Auror office. He looked around, pocketing the hardcopy of the fingerprints, fearful the real mole may take them if Harry wasn't watchful.

He looked around the office at everyone working. Ron was nowhere to be seen.

2:55:11... 2:55:12... 2:55:13... 2:55:14...

Carlisle Church, a Muggle, returned to the bedroom with a cup of tea. Since his wife had made that dark prediction nearly earlier, she'd been inconsolable, sick with worry and scared of the tiniest noises.

Chastity was sitting up in the bed against the rail, hugging her legs to her chest. Carlisle set the tea at her bedside table. "Dear, you may not know if it was a prediction," he said, treading carefully. "It could've been a nightmare, or a-"

"I saw it," Chastity said quickly. "It was real. That man- Zeus- he's planning something dreadful today. We need to warn the Ministry!"

"The Ministry probably knows," said Carlisle rubbing his wife's shoulder lovingly. "They make copies of prophecies as soon as they're made, you know.

"And besides, it's three in the morning, and you can't calm down. You're not going anywhere in this state, especially the Ministry of Magic. You need to calm down. Then we'll go."

There was an explosion of glass and Chastity screamed as the three Requiters flew through the window, aiming their wands at the young couple in their bedclothes.

"You're not going to the Ministry," growled one, a tall man with a small nose. "You're coming with us."

Carlisle held his wife close to him, suddenly realizing how exposed he was, bare-chested, with no weapon and no magical ability to defend himself.

"Zeus Vejovis wants to speak to you," said the Requiter.

2:59:57... 2:59:58... 2:59:59... 3:00:00...

A/N: Wow. Two story updates in a week, and at the same time as Zutara Week, in which I am shamelessly participating. Don't get your hopes up. Chances are I won't be able to update this often, especially with school and band starting up in the next month, here.


	4. 3:00 AM to 4:00 AM

The following takes place between 3:00 AM and 4:00 AM.

3:00:00... 3:00:01... 3:00:02... 3:00:03...

The lift clamored as it rose back to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the grate slide open. Ron stepped our and made his way down the hall toward the Auror offices.

Once there, he weaved his way through the cubicles to his desk and sat down. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily.

"Ron?"

Ron launched himself forward in his chair and stood up. It was Harry. "Hey," he said, sheepishly. "Sorry... just, uh... just resting my eyes a bit."

Harry looked at him questioningly. "Did you get the fingerprints from everyone else in the Auror office? There were two sets of fingerprints on Ferris's quill."

Ron's face flushed. "No, I didin't..."

Harry stood there in shock for a moment. "Ron," he said, "Ferris has been in the interrogation room for an hour. Robarbs will be getting forceful with him! What have you been doing all this time?"

"I had to meet with Percy," Ron mumbled.

"Okay, fine," said Harry, clearly annoyed. "Just... get all the fingerprints now, and quickly!"

Ron stood up and grabbed a blank sheet of parchment and a bottle of ink. He wandered over to the desk and started chatting with him, improvising for a way to get the man's fingerprints.

Harry heaved an annoyed sigh. They didn't have time for this. Ron was slowing them down.

3:03:39... 3:03:40... 3:03:41... 3:03:42...

The Requitters held Chastity's arms and forced her on her knees in front of Vejovis. She shivered from the cold and from fear. Vejovis kneeled down to eye level.

"Chastity Church, you are quite a gifted seer," he said, with faux charm. "No other seer has predicted my plans for today."

She looked up at him with fear.

Vejovis held up the small orb and the prophecy repeated itself. Chastity listened to her own voice warn about The Day of Jupiter.

"I know you made this prophecy," Vejovis said, "and I know your husband heard it."

On cue, two more Requiters dragged Carlisle in and forced him onto his knees. His head and lip were bleeding.

"I need to know who else you told about this prophecy."

Chastity shook her head. "No one," she said. "I didn't get a chance to..."

Vejovis sighed. "I'd like to believe you."

He stood and pointed his wand at Chastity. "Crucio!"

She shrieked and doubled over in pain, her body twisting unnaturally as she struggled against the curse.

Vejovis held it on her for a few moments, then pulled away.

"We will do this as long as we have to," he said. "Until I'm convinced you haven't told anyone."

He pointed his wand at Carlisle this time.

"Crucio!"

3:08:09... 3:08:10... 3:08:11... 3:08:12...

Ron had been making steady progress. He'd managed to collect fingerprints from five or six different Aurors and desk jockey's.

Harry watched him uneasily.

The door to Robarbs's office door opened and Neville stepped out. He walked over to Harry and greeted him, tiredly.

"Were you reading the Interrogation?" Harry asked, alluding to the scroll that copied down whatever was spoken in the Interrogation Room.

"Yeah," said Neville. "Robarbs is getting pretty brutal."

"How's Ferris holding up?"

Neville smiled. "The old man's stronger than he looks. He's sticking to his innocence."

"Good," said Harry. "He's been in there way too long." He paused uncomfortably. "Ron set us back a lot."

Neville watched Ron move on to the next desk and collect the fingerprints of its occupant.

"He said he had to meet with Percy," said Harry. "And he was late showing up when the rest of the Auror Office was called in on the curses. His head's not in the right place right now. Something else is going on with him, and whatever it is, he's thinking about that and not this."

Neville cleared his throat. "What do we do?"

Harry shrugged. "Keep an eye on him. There's nothing else we can do right now. If he doesn't get any better, we'll have to have him sit out."

He turned away from Ron and looked directly at Neville. "Once he's collected all the fingerprints, can you help me compare them with the one I got off the quill?"

Neville nodded. "Sure."

3:12:15... 3:12:16... 3:12:17... 3:12:18...

There was a rapping on Percy's door. He had just been about to go home. Thinking it may be easier to just sleep in the office tonight, Percy waved his wand and the door opened.

There stood an imposing, large woman with short, curly, graying hair, expensive clothing and bejeweled rings on all of her fingers. Percy recognized her from the Wizengamot. Her name was Ursula Balevad. She was also the largest opposition to Hermione's Elf Liaison Office.

"You've spoken to your brother?" she asked as she crossed the room and sat down in the chair across from Percy.

"Yes," said Percy. "He says she's adamant, and I believe him."

Balevad huffed. "No one can support a cause this idiotic with such adamancy."

"Well, Hermione Granger does," said Percy. "But she's scared. Ron came to me about an hour ago about the threatening letter. That's not going to change her mind. If anything, it only made her want to do it more."

Balevad looked at Percy, politely bemused. "The threatening letter?"

Percy arched an eyebrow, skeptically. "You weren't behind that?"

Balevad shook her head. "I tend to handle these things in a more adult fashion than poorly concealed threats." She smirked. "And with somewhat more gusto."

Percy removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "So if that wasn't you who sent the letter, who was it?"

Balevad didn't meet Percy's eye as she thought. "I think I may have an idea who."

She stood up. "Get some sleep," she said. "We have a long day ahead of us." With a flick of her wand, the door opened and she let herself out.

Without argument, Percy stretched his arms out on his desk and laid his head on them. It wasn't much, but it'll have to do for now.

3:16:08... 3:16:09... 3:16:10... 3:16:11...

Once Ron was about a third through all the desks in the office, he'd delivered the prints he had collected to Harry, then set back to work.

Harry and Neville had sat down in Robarbs office and begun going over them all.

"This is mind numbing," said Neville, ruling out one print and setting it aside. He took the opportunity to rest his eyes for a moment. "How do Muggles do this?"

"They use computers," said Harry, picking up a new print. "If we had time, I'd think of a spell that could find a match for us." He eliminated that print and set it with the others, then quickly picked up a new one.

"It still might do to go ahead and make that spell," said Neville, starting on a new print.

"No it won't..." said Harry. "Do these look like a match to you?"

He handed the print over and Neville looked at it, then back at the print they'd gotten off the quill, then back at the match. "I'd say yes," Neville said.

"Me too," said Harry. He checked the name on the print. "Nestor Hoolihan."

Harry pulled out his wand and ran out of the office, followed quickly by Neville.

Harry checked Hoolihan's desk. He wasn't at it. Harry scanned, and spotted Hoolihan walking quickly for the exit.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Harry screamed, and the spell shot out of his wand and struck Hoolihan directly in the chest, sending him toppling.

The entire office stood still, watching Harry uneasily, Ron among them.

"No need to finish, Ron," said Harry. "It was Hoolihan."

Harry crossed the office in silence to Interrogation and opened the door.

"Sir," Harry said. "You're interrogating the wrong man. Nestor Hoolihan used Proud's quill to contact the Requiters."

Robarbs, who had been leaning over the suspect, intimidating Proud, looked at Harry dumbly. "How-?"

"I took Proud's quill to MI5, the Muggle law-enforcers?"

Robarbs said nothing.

"They found a fingerprint on it that wasn't Proud's," Harry said. "Ron started collecting fingerprints from anyone else working at the office. Once Hoolihan realized what he was doing, he tried to make a run for it."

"Where is he now?"

"Paralyzed, about ten feet away from the lift."

Robarbs stood and turned to the Hit Wizards monitoring the interrogation. "Go on then, you heard Mr. Potter. Arrest Nestor Hoolihan."

The two men nodded. "Yes, sir."

Harry grinned. "Proud," he said, "get back to work."

Proud smiled. "Yes, sir!"

3:22:52... 3:22:53... 3:22:54... 3:22:55...

"Crucio!"

The curse overtook her once again and Chastity arched back and tore open her mouth as if to scream, but no sound escaped.

Chastity's screaming had long ceased, the pain being too intensive for her vocal chords to work properly. Vejovis held her under the Cruciatus for another moment, then lifted it and she crumbled into a sobbing heap before him.

"She didn't tell anyone," Vejovis said. "No one can withstand that."

His followers seemed to heave a sigh of relief, but Chastity couldn't be sure if they were relieved at not being discovered or not having to witness her torture any longer.

"We are fortunate tonight, my brothers," Vejovis called out. "The seeress and her husband are the only two peope who have been forwarned of our plans and now they will be eliminated."

He stepped past the beaten and exhausted bodies of Chastity and Carlisle. His followers dared not look down at them.

"I want them to be silenced. Oh, there is no need to kill them. Our ends will be achieved before the day is done. They need only be restrained a few hours longer so they can't warn the Ministry."

The Requiters nodded their understanding. With a wave of their wands, they bound Chastity and Carlisle in thick black ropes. One of the Requiters pulled open a trapdoor and led the way down. The couple was lowered by magic to the cellar floor and the trapdoor closed behind them, leaving them in darkness.

"Any ideas?" asked Carlisle. The poor Muggle had never been this deep in the Magical community before, and needless to say he was terrified.

Chastity shook her head, before realizing it was too dark for her husband to see her. "No... they took my wand. There's nothing I can do to warn the Ministry in time." She hung her head, then an idea came to her. "Unless..." She thought about it. Could it work? Technically, it was possible, but it wasn't exactly Ministry of Magic kosher.

"Unless what?" Carlisle asked, desperate for any way out of this situation.

"Well," Chastity started warily, "I could conceivably make a prophecy telling the Ministry what the Requiters are planning and where we are."

"Can you control it?" Carlisle asked.

"Yes," said Chastity. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was that she could pull it off. "Yes, I'm sure."

She focused hard on her gift of divination and then, she began speaking in an eerie voice.

"_My last prophecy was stolen so that you who most need to hear it cannot. My husband and I have been taken so that you cannot be warned. The Requiters are planning on stealing magic from the Ministry and all of Britain and returning it to its source. You will find my prophecy and me in a cottage in the woods to the north. Please, help us!"_

The prophecy concluded and Chastity took a breath.

"So that's it?" asked Carlisle. "We're saved?"

"Someone needs to find the prophecy first," said Chastity, "and it _is _the middle of the night."

Carlisle groaned. "I can't just lie here and do nothing."

3:31:26... 3:31:27... 3:31:28... 3:31:29...

Draco Malfoy sauntered down the Minister of Magic and Support Staff Department hallway, feeling quite pleased with himself, if very tired.

He supposed the late hour was his own fault. If he had been more attentive, he'd have put a stop to this Elf Liaison Office weeks ago. He never expected the mudblood Granger to get the support she needed to actually be taken seriously, let alone get an audience with the entire Wizengamot.

But, no matter. The entire silly thing would end today. Tonight was his last chance to intimidate her into dropping the whole matter and going back to being the bookish, ugly girl she was in school.

Draco reached his destination and knocked with conviction. "It's open," replied a gruff voice.

He opened the door and there sat Ursula Balevad, a powerful figure in the Ministry. Although not the most attractive of women, being quite large and rather old, she irradiated a kind of sexiness that Draco found revolting and interesting. He supposed he was just attracted to power, and that was all this woman had to her name, and it was enough.

"You summoned me," he said lazily as he lounged on a sofa on the side of the room.

Balevad scowled down at him. "If you knew why you were being summoned, you might not be waltzing in here so carefree."

Draco sighed. "You mustn't worry. I've already begun knocking Granger off her high horse."

"And how did you do that exactly?" the old woman demanded. "By cutting some letters out of _Witch Weekly_, pasting them on a piece of parchment in a semi-threatening manner, send it off to the mudblood's apartment, then think to yourself, 'That'll show her!'?"

Draco was speechless. It wasn't entirely accurate. After the owl had flown off, he had thought "That'll show her!" but everything else had been done with malice.

"I was trying to intimidate her into backing off," said Draco. "My father used this tactic often when he was in my position. It was always effective."

"Yes," Balevad agreed, "and it might have been effective a month ago when this thing was only in the beginning stages. You've let this come much farther than it ever should've and now we have only hours.

The presentation cannot be stopped. All we can do now is try to make the Wizengamot not approve the damned thing, which is easy enough, lucky for you."

Draco's cheeks turned a light pink as he met her eye. "Alright, fine. What would you have me do?"

"I would have you handle this matter..." she paused, searching for the right word.

"Delicately?" Draco offered.

"Politically."

3:38:39... 3:38:40... 3:38:41... 3:38:42...

Brent Cort hated working the graveyard shift. Nothing ever happened in the Department of Mysteries, especially at night. It's not like the Department was tingling with Ministry of Magic secrets and cover ups. It was a research facility, everyone in the magical community knew that. Why anyone would want to break into an overblown magical laboratory where advances might be made once a decade or so was beyond him.

Nonetheless, Cort didn't complain (outloud) as he patrolled the corridors of the Department with his boss, Francis Ussary, and his co-worker, Vic Fuller.

Although, come to think of it, he hadn't seen Fuller in a while. Maybe the guy had gotten smart and decided to find a place to sleep. That's certainly what Cort would do if he had the stones, but with his luck, Ussary would stumble on him and he'd be out of a job.

So he patrolled. He was monitoring the hall of prophecy when he saw something. There was a new prophecy on the shelf.

Intrigued, he made his way down the hallway to it and observed it. It was a regular sized prophecy, with misty innards and a smooth surface, but something was off. The label only had the seer and who it was made to.

There wasn't a subject.

Baffled, Cort started to reach for it. The only people who could handle prophecies were people they were made about, but since this one didn't have a subject, anyone could take it, right?

Daring, Cort took the little ball in his hands and held it up to observe it closer. The mist swirled to reveal the ghostly face of the seeress- C.L.C.C were her initials. He listened as she spoke and a realization dawned. There was no subject because it wasn't exactly a prophecy. It was a message!

It spoke of a missing prophecy. Sure enough, when Cort checked the shelf, there was a new pedestal for the prophecy to rest on, but the prophecy itself had been taken.

Cort pocketed the prophecy and hurried down the hall and out of the room. He found himself in the middle of the black room with all the doors that led to the different halls and areas of study.

Ussary could be in any one of them.

"Mr. Ussary!" he called, his voice reverberating throughout the entire Department. "Something's happened!"

It took barely more than a minute before Ussary came charging toward him. A lot of bad things could be said about Mr. Francis Ussary of the Department of Mysteries, but a lack of devotion to his job wasn't one of them. "What is it, Cort?" Ussary demanded. "What's happened?"

Cort reached into his pocket and pulled out the prophecy. "I was able to take it because it didn't have a subject," he explained.

Ussary looked at the little orb confused. "Meaning it wasn't filed properly?"

"The seeress did it on purpose," Cort said. "Listen." He handed the prophecy over and Ussary held it to his ear, his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"It's a warning," said Cort. "The seeress and her husband have been captured by these Dark Wizards, these... Requiters... and they're going to steal magic from the ministry. They've already taken a prophecy that would've warned us of the threat- I know, I checked."

Ussary clutched the prophecy in his hands, thinking fast.

"Do you want me to go inform the Auror Office?" asked Cort.

"No!" answered Ussary at once.

"No?"

"Absolutely not," said Ussary. "We are unspeakables. Our work is unspeakable. We are sworn to not divulge the information discovered in this Department to anyone for any reason. Have I made myself clear?"

Cort looked at his boss as if seeing him in a new light. "Crystal."

"Come now," Ussary said. "Let's put this prophecy back where it belongs. And don't go sneaking off to warn the Aurors!"

Cort hung his head as he followed Ussary. There was no way he'd be able to get to the Aurors now. Why hadn't he gone straight to them? He should've known the strict Mr. Ussary would never allow Unspeakable regulations to be breached. But now that Mr. Ussary suspected him, he wouldn't let him out of his sight.

There had to be a way Cort could warn the Aurors without Ussary seeing him.

3:50:24... 3:50:25... 3:50:26... 3:50:27...

The Hit Wizards opened the door to Interrogation and Harry stepped in. Hoolihan looked away.

"Sorry for the wait," Harry said, as he began to pace around the chained chair. "We decided to search your desk first and find out what all you told them."

Hoolihan didn't say a word.

"But you were a good little mole," said Harry, "you covered your tracks pretty well." He smiled and leaned in, face to face with Hoolihan. "Only pretty well.

"We know definitively of some of the information you gave the Requiters," Harry said, resuming his pacing. "So I'll know if you're lying to me. Let's not waste the Veritaserum, shall we?"

Harry tutted his teeth in a disapproving manner. "With what we've got on you alone- espionage, treason, conspiracy- you're looking at up to fifty years in Azkaban." Harry glanced over the suspect. He was not young, and he didn't look entirely healthy. "You think you'll last that long?" Harry asked. "I might as well just sentence you to life, right?"

Harry saw it. A flicker of fear in Hoolihan's eyes. "Cooperate with me," Harry instructed. "Tell me everything you know and I can reduce the sentence. Twenty-five years. Maybe fifteen. Who knows? There's a good chance you'll get out even earlier and can stay under house arrest."

Hoolihan was hooked. He was hopeful. Harry could see it. But hope wasn't how to get a suspect to talk, it was just to loosen them up.

Harry leaned in. "But if you can't do that, I will personally escort you to the smallest cell, lock you in, and keep the key in a dragon-guarded cell in Gringotts. I'll see to it you're given maximum security, minimum exercise, and barely enough food to keep a rat alive. You'll be in a cell on the east wing at evening and the west wing at morning so the next time you see the sun will be when your dead eyes look up at it as they bury you beside the sea. That is what you're looking at unless you tell me everything you know before the top of the hour!" Harry checked his watch. "You have about three minutes."

"Alright," said Hoolihan. "The Requiters approached me a long time ago. Desk jockeys in the Auror Office don't get paid a lot, and I have some gambling debts. They paid me to spy on the Auror office."

"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked.

"Only about nine months," he said.

"You're doing great," said Harry. "Where can I find Zeus Vejovis?"

"I don't know."

"Wrong answer," said Harry making for the door.

"No!" cried Hoolihan desperately. "I swear, I don't know! They only ever approached me! They have safehouses and hidden meeting places all over the country and they changed them regularly so they can't be tracked!"

"So how do I find them?" Harry demanded. "Come on, Nestor, you've only got about a minute left."

"The last time they contacted me," said Hoolihan, "they said that a seer had predicted what they were planning for today- don't ask me, they wouldn't fill me in. They had stolen the prophecy and kidnapped the seer."

"How could they have stolen a prophecy?" asked Harry.

Hoolihan shrugged. "They got me inside the Auror office, didn't they? Who's to say they don't have a man in the Department of Mysteries, too?"

Harry nodded. "You've been a big help, Nestor."

With that, Harry exited the room.

3:59:57... 3:59:58... 3:59:59... 4:00:00

Reviews are appreciated. Like... really guys. I REALLY REALLY love reviews. Pleasepleaseplease review!

Thanks. Love y'all.

-Sax Warrior


	5. 4:00 AM to 5:00 AM

The following takes place between 4:00 AM and 5:00 AM

4:00:00... 4:00:01... 4:00:02... 4:00:03...

Harry left the Hit Wizards to escort Hoolihan to a holding cell as he crossed the office to Robarbs's office. Without knocking, he let himself in.

"Good job, Potter," Robarbs said, reviewing the recorded dialogue from Hoolihan's interrogation.

_What? No "Sorry I didn't trust your judgment?" _thought Harry, treacherously.

"What do we do now?" asked Ron.

"We need to find out who's been helping the Requiters within the Department of Mysteries," said Neville. "Whoever it is delivered the prophecy to Vejovis. They can lead us to him."

"Unless he's already relocated," said Robarbs.

"It's a lead," said Harry, turning around. "That's good enough for me." He left the office without closing the door.

"Where are you going?" called out Ron.

"To interrogate the night shift at the Department of Mysteries," Harry yelled over his shoulder, _Like they'll tell me anything_.

"Good luck," said Ron, undoubtedly thinking the same thing Harry was.

"We'll come, too," said Neville.

"We?" asked Ron.

Harry turned around. "Do you have somewhere you need to be, Ron?" he demanded.

Ron cast a quick glance away as if to recall something or make up something. "Other than in my bed?"

Harry turned back around. "He turns into a real hard-ass when he hasn't had any sleep," Ron said in an undertone so that only Neville could hear him.

"No kidding," said Neville, as they followed Harry into the lift.

Robarbs watched them go and cast a glance over all his workers. All of them were drowsy eyed and weary. He called a low-level Desk Jockey over and gave him a small sack of Galleons to go find a Potioneer to whip up an Invigoration Draught for the entire office.

Time to stop considering it a late night and start considering it an early morning.

4:05:18... 4:05:19... 4:05:20... 4:05:21...

The lift seemed to drag on forever as Harry, Ron, and Neville slid through the shaft to the Department of Mysteries.

Harry shoved the grate aside and hurried forward. He made a beeline straight for the Hall of Prophecy. He thrust the door open and entered, the echo of the door and his footsteps alerting anyone to their presence.

Harry turned down the first aisle where the newer prophecies were made. But he was surprised to see not one spot marked for a prophecy that wasn't there, but two.

"Can I help you?" came a voice, and Harry lit his wand and raised it. The Unspeakable did the same, illuminating a young (but still older than the three Aurors) wizard with sandy hair and a pointed chin.

"We're Aurors," said Ron, flashing the badge pinned to his hip. "We believe the Hall of Prophecy may have information relating to a Dark Wizard that we need to find."

The Unspeakable's eyes widened and he cast a quick glance over his shoulder. Then turned back and said, "You're right. There was a prophecy earlier. I wanted to report it right away, but my superior is really strict about Unspeakable Regulations."

"Where is the prophecy now?" asked Harry.

"He has it," said the wizard. "I'll call him. Mr. Ussary!"

The Unspeakable turned back to them. "There was a another prophecy the seeress sent as a warning. She told us where they were being held. She said it was a cottage up north."

"That's not a lot to go on," said Neville.

"It'll be enough," said Harry.

There was a pause as they waited, then they heard footsteps approaching. Mr. Ussary turned the corner and froze, his eyes immediately darting to the badge still visible on Ron's hip. The Unspeakalbe immediately turned tail and ran.

Harry shot a jinx at him, but it missed and smashed a prophecy.

As the ghostly image arched up and began ranting, Harry turned to Ron. "Follow him," he said. "Get the prophecy. Neville, take this man- what's your name?"

"Brent Cort," he answered, breathlessly.

"Professor Longbottom will escort you to the Auror Office where your memory will be examined," said Harry. "I'm going after the seeress."

"Her name is Chastity Church," supplied Cort, "and she's with her husband, Carlisle."

"Thank you," said Harry, and he turned on his heel and Apparated away.

"Follow me, Mr. Cort," said Neville and the two hurried out of the hall.

4:12:35... 4:12:36... 4:12:37... 4:12:38...

There was a knock on Balevad's door and she flicked her wand to admit the late-night visitor. It was Draco Malfoy again.

"Have you got anything for me yet?" he asked, tentatively.

"You'll find I have," said the old witch. "The Editor for the Daily Prophet says he has a reporter with a sleeping disorder who is always at the office in the early hours. He will permit you to enter and provide this reporter the story."

"What story?" asked Malfoy.

Balevad rolled her eyes. "I don't care. Any story that won't take long to write that can destroy Hermione Granger's credibility to anyone who reads it."

"I won't be able to give them all that," said Malfoy.

"No, you won't," Balevad agreed. "Still, go ahead and get the ball rolling. I'll find something really dishy on her we can add in before the story goes to the printers. Now hurry. The reporter's name is Wynne Pack."

"Wynne Pack," repeated Malfoy. "Alright. Be there soon."

He turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Balevad drew up a self-writing, self-inking quill and set it to a piece of parchment. "Dear Mr. Weaks," she began, and as she spoke, the quill copied.

"There is a certain young witch who is making political ploys in the Ministry that I do not quite contend with. I won't bore you with the details, but I will offer you a great deal of money if you could be bothered at this early hour to find some dirt on this woman, Hermione Granger, and have it to Wynne Pack, reporter at the Daily Prophet, before the presses this morning.

"Please and thank you, Ursula E. Balevad."

She flicked her wand again and the parchment folded itself into a paper airplane and zoomed away.

4:17:59... 4:18:00... 4:18:01... 4:18:02...

Harry stealed through the woods north of London, looking for any sign of magic. He mummered soft incantations under his breath, seeking out the telltale traces sorcery was bound to leave.

He followed a magical scent that led him over a snow capped hill, and beyond it, a log cabin.

Harry snuck up to the cabin's window and peered through it. There were three men inside, all sitting around a fireplace and all awake. Harry recognized one as a Frollo Quince, a wizard wanted for use of the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry ducked around to the front of the house and raised his wand. With a quick jab, the door burst open and Harry rolled in.

He cast a non-verbal stunning spell at one man, who instantly slumped back into his seat, having leapt from it at Harry's intrusion.

The second man shouted, "Avada Kedavra!" but Harry cast a spell to flip the wizard's wand in his hand and the curse hit him squarely in the face. The curse was a poor one and all it did was knock him unconscious, at least Harry hoped.

That left only Quince, who cast a non-verbal hex in Harry's direction, which Harry casually deflected with a shield charm. Quince cast the same hex, which Harry sidestepped, before summoning Quince's wand and shooting thick ropes at Quince and tying him down.

Harry raised his wand and said, "Homenum Revelio," but the house came up empty save for the Dark Wizard's he'd just defeated.

Harry muttered a spell to make the tip of his wand heat up, and he held it to Quince's face. "The seeress Chastity Church and her husband. Where are they?"

"The Muggle tried to escape," said Quince, eyeing the tip of Harry's wand testily. "So Vejovis said they 'ad to be punished."

"Vejovis was here?" asked Harry.

"Yes," said Quince.

"Is he with the Churches now?"

"No, 'e went off somewhere else with some of 'is followers. 'e didn't tell us where."

"Where are the Churches?" Harry demanded again, flicking the heated wand close to Quince's eye.

"One of Vejovis's men took 'em to the coast," said Quince, half-smiling. "He's gonna kill 'em."

Cursing, Harry knocked Quince unconcious with a simple jinx. He cast a Patronus to the Auror office to get them to come collect the wizards he'd beaten. He also told them he was going after the Churches.

4:25:09... 4:25:10... 4:25:11... 4:25:12...

Malfoy sauntered through the dark Diagon Alley, passing closed shops and darkened windows, the displays in them waiting sadly for morning to bring its shoppers.

Malfoy walked right up to the old wooden building marked with a sign shaped like a rolled up newspaper with a headline, "The Daily Prophet,". Malfoy stolled in and glanced around. A team of mechanical wizards were cleaning the presses, no doubt preparing them for the morning's printing. Another team of wizards was preparing the Prophet's owls. Malfoy made his way through the maze and got to a staircase which led him to the reporter's officers.

Once there, Malfoy easily sought out Wynne Pack, the only person on the entire upper level.

"Mrs. Pack, I presume?" asked Malfoy as he approached. She was a spectacled woman of about thirty who spoke professionally and kept her hair in a tight bun.

"You'd be right," said Pack. "My editor said you'd be stopping by, Malfoy. You got a story for me?"

"I don't have all the details yet," said Malfoy, handing her a small sack of Galleons. "But I do know that I want a story that undermines the credibility of a certain witch who works for the law office in the Ministry."

"Just give me a name, tell me what you can about her, and I'll do as much as I can. But I could never report something that wasn't true."

"Mrs. Balevad appreciates that," said Malfoy. "She's going to find something on this girl and he'll bring it to you before you have to turn in your final draft."

"She's got until ten to six," said Pack. "After that, the final drafts are magicked onto all the papers, and the papers are sent out."

"He'll get it done," said Malfoy. "The witch's name is Hermione Granger."

Pack scoffed. "That bitch who's trying to make a House-Elf Liaison Office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

Malfoy smiled. This was going to go well.

4:31:08... 4:31:09... 4:31:10... 4:31:11...

The Department of Mysteries is ridiculous, thought Ron as he ran down yet another corridor. Since his pursuit of Ussary had begun nearly twenty minutes ago, he'd been accosted by every strange, stupid, and sticky spell he could think of and Ussary was bar-none refusing to allow Ron anywhere near the prophecy.

Ussary was currently racing down aisle 117 in the Hall of Prophecy, practically back at where they'd started. Thinking he couldn't run forever Ron forced himself to follow, but his spirit was breaking and he was getting seriously pissed off. He had better things to be doing than chasing down some idiot with a Prophecy!

Ron turned back and ran toward the center aisle of the Hall. Once there, he held his ground. Surely, Ussary would cross the hall at some point, thinking Ron would be behind him, and when he did...

"Petrificus Totallus!" shouted Ron, aiming at the first movement he saw. Ussary fell forward on the ground and Ron heard the tinkling sound of glass breaking.

"Oh, shit," said Ron, fearing the worst. He jogged down the hall to where Ussary had fallen. He got there just in time to see the shadow of Chastity Church vanish and see the broken glass of the prophecy.

"Shit!" Ron swore, kicking at the glass.

"That is Department of Mysteries property!" shouted Ussary, still paralyzed against the floor.

"Yeah?" said Ron, "Well now you're Auror Office property." He lifted the curse on Ussary and magicked him into a standing position. Another flick of his wand tied Ussary's hands behind his back. "Walk," said Ron, leading him toward the door.

He desperately needed some sleep.

4:36:03... 4:36:04... 4:36:05... 4:36:06...

Wesley Weaks arrived sooner than expected, Ursula thought as she opened her office door to admit him.

He was a tall man with small eyes and golden blond hair and a small beard. "Mrs. Balevad, it's been too long," he said, sounding bored as he stepped inside.

Balevad remained seated at her desk.

"Which means you must really have yourself a problem."

Balevad said nothing.

"The last time you needed my help was nearly two years ago, when I had to get you out of joining your friend Umbridge in Azkaban. It's a serious crime nowadays, discriminating against Muggleborn witches and wizards, isn't it?"

"I know I owe you," said Balevad, "and if you do this for me, you'll owe me even more."

"Why is it always me who comes in to save your ass?" Weaks wasn't known for his manners or his subtlety.

"Because you're damn good, is that what you want to hear?" asked Balevad. "I told you everything in my letter. I want this witch, Hermione Granger's, reputation ruined. This morning, before the paper hits the presses. I already have a reporter working on a story, I just need you to find something really juicy to put in it."

Weaks smirked. "It just so happens I've already found one. I have an old reporter friend, used to write for the Daily Prophet, but now she gets by on tabloids- Rita Skeeter. You know her?"

Balevad nodded. Of course, everyone knows Rita Skeeter.

"It just so happens that she was once quite chummy with Hermione Granger," Weaks said. "I'm sure she'll be able to tell us something really awful."

"And if she can't?" asked Balevad.

"Then I'll make something up," said Weaks. "As I understand it, you only need her reputation soiled today. What it matter if the facts are put straight tomorrow?"

Balevad watched him go. Weaks was a very capable ally, but a difficult one. It may be easier to wipe his memory after this whole day was over. Balevad checked her clock. It was far too early for her to be up. She wanted sleep. Perhaps she could drop back in to her house for at least a few hours of sleep.

She sprinkled some floo powder into her fireplace and said "Balevad Manor," hoping against hope that everything would be ready by the time she woke up.

4:43:03... 4:43:04... 4:43:05... 4:43:06...

Ron forced Ussary out of the lift and into the Auror office. Neville was sitting at Harry's cubicle, debriefing Brent Cort. Once he saw Ron, he motioned for Cort to wait, and he made his way over to him.

"What the hell took so long?" he asked irritably.

"Take it up with this one," said Ron, handing Ussary over to the Hit Wizards who would escort him to a holding cell and then to interrogation. "The bastard led me through the entirety of the Department of Mysteries. I'll be happy if I never set foot in the place again."

"Do you have the prophecy?" Neville asked, ignoring Ron's bad mood.

"No, it smashed."

Neville sighed inwardly. "It smashed? How?"

"Ussary dropped it when I caught up to him."

"How could you let it smash?"

"Don't blame me, alright!" snapped Ron, his voice rising. "There wasn't anything I could do to stop it! We already know what the prophecy says and we can use Cort's memory as evidence. Now if you'll excuse me, I have an interrogation to begin."

Ron stalked away, leaving Neville at a loss for words.

4:46:24... 4:46:25... 4:46:26... 4:46:27...

Percy woke with a start as there was a loud knocking on his door. "Whosit?" he called wearily as he sat up. He'd fallen asleep at his desk, his face stuck to a piece of parchment.

"It's Hermione!"

That woke Percy up. Hermione? Here? Now? This couldn't be good. He crossed the room as cooly as he could and opened the door for her. "Hey," he greeted. "What's up?"

"I'm really sorry to bother you," said Hermione, "but what can you tell me about the legality of the written threat of unforgiveable curses?"

Percy wracked his brains. "Large fine or up to a month in Azkaban. Why?" Remember, he thought, Ron never told you about the threatening letter. You don't know about it.

"Because I received a threat just like it," Hermione said. "I went to Ron and he said I should talk to Patrol about it. Well I did. I spoke to a Patrol Wizard named Myopite and he told me I had nothing to worry about."

Percy was silent for a moment. "Well then," he said. "I guess that's settled?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "No, it's not! You just told me that it's a crime to threaten someone with an unforgiveable curse, and now I'm telling you that a Patrol Wizard says that the exact same crime is nothing to worry about? No, I'll not have it. I want you to go down to Patrol this instant and investigate why I'm being mistreated."

Percy groaned, reminding himself incredibly of Ron. "This instant?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Tomorrow- or today, I guess- is the most important day of my life and I'm not getting any sleep, and I want to know why I'm being mistreated by Patrol when I report a serious crime!"

"Alright! Alright!" said Percy, grabbing his cloak. "Just stop yelling at me. Please. Wait here."

Hermione sat down at Percy's desk as he left the office. He thought to himself, there is no way Balevad could ever thank me enough for this.

4:52:22... 4:52:23... 4:52:24... 4:52:25...

The temperature began to rise as Harry made his way through the woods, if only barely. Back at the cabin had been cold rain and sleet, but as he neared the beach, the weather was cool and brisk.

He hurried past brambles and bushes in his haste to get to the Requiters before the Churches could be executed. His thoughts whirled around in a dizzying haze and he shook his head to clear it and come up with a plan.

Back at the cabin, Quince had told Harry only one Requiter was given the task of taking the Churches out. All Harry had to do was disarm him and apprehend him, then the Churches would be safe and Harry would have another witness, although probably not as good a witness as Quince.

Harry heard the surf before he saw it. He ran past some sandy areas of the forest and knealt behind a sand dune. He peered over it, his wand at the ready. Standing in the moonlight was the Requiter, forcing Carlisle into the surf as if to baptize him. Chastity was bound on the beach, shouting at the Requiter to release her husband, her sobs loud enough to be heard over the sound of the ocean.

Harry stood up and took aim with his wand. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and the Requiter's wand shot out of his hand and fell into the water, lost among the waves. Harry flicked his wand again, and a thick rope shot out of it, twisting its way around the Requiter who stood there next to Carlisle helpless.

Harry rushed forward and lifted the spell binding Chastity. "Are you alright?" he asked, as he helped her up.

She was crying with relief. "I- I think so... These men- the Requiters- they're planning to-"

"We know," said Harry, conjuring a blanket to wrap her in. "We're going to get you back to the Auror Office so you can tell us everything you know about Vejovis and what he's planning. Alright?"

Chastity nodded, then looked over Harry's shoulder, her eyes widening in fear. Harry turned with his wand raised, wondering if the Requiter was attacking. He was mistaken once he saw what was before him.

Carlisle Church had taken matters into his own hands and was holding the protesting Requiter beneath the waves. As Harry watched, before he could do or say anything, the body went limp and Carlisle thrust it down into the surf where it did not move except to be rocked by the waves.

4:59:57... 4:59:58... 4:59:59... 5:00:00


	6. 5:00 AM to 6:00 AM

The following takes place between 5:00 AM and 6:00 AM.

5:00:00... 5:00:01... 5:00:02... 5:00:03...

Percy found himself waiting in the Patrol Office's waiting room much as Hermione had done a few hours earlier. He was beginning to nod off when the Patrol Wizard on duty, Tristan Myopite arrived from the back offices.

"Mr. Weasley," he said, "what can I help you with this morning?"

Percy stood up slowly trying not to make too many early-morning groans as he did. "Patrolman Myopite?"

"Yes, sir."

Percy nodded, then said as gentlemanly as he could. "In the early hours of this morning, a witch came to speak to you about a threatening letter. Now, I've looked at the letter, and I know it to be threatening, and the legality of such a threat is very plain but you insisted that it was not a threat."

Myopite was sweating now. "I will confess that I dismissed the letter very quickly, because the man who wrote it already confessed."

Percy arched his eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yes," said Myopite, clearing his throat. "You're friends with Madame Ursula Balevad, are you not?"

Percy nodded. "Yes, but I'd already talked with her about it, and she said she had nothing to do with it."

"It was written by one of her staffers," Myopite said. "She's already apologized for him, but would prefer that his name not be released. You understand."

"Of course," said Percy. "And did Madame Balevad punish the culprit?"

"She didn't say," said Myopite.

Percy nodded. "Alright then. Thank you very much, Patrolman Myopite."

As Percy left, he felt Myopite's eyes on him. Balevad had him in his pocket too. _You say that as if she doesn't have you, _said a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded like his mother.

He entered the lift and pushed the button to take him back to the Upper-Level Ministry Officials. He wondered if he ought to discuss the situation with Balevad some more. The more she became involved, the more worried he was for Hermione, and by extension Ron. The House-Elf Liaison Office was such a delicate matter, and at times, it seemed there was so much opposition to it.

Percy wished Hermione had just dropped it. What was he supposed to say to her now, though? Myopite had already told her that there was nothing to worry about, and she hadn't believed him. How was he supposed to convince her she was fine?

He arrived at his level and crossed the hallway to his office. He opened the door and Hermione stood there, waiting for him. It looked like she hadn't slept at all in his absence.

"I spoke to Patrolman Myopite," Percy said, testing the waters. "And he told me why the threat against you had been dismissed."

Hermione looked at him expectedly.

Percy made his decision.

"The threat simply hasn't any basis and you don't have to trouble yourself. Go home. Get as much sleep as you can. You have your presentation to think about."

Hermione looked at him as if she wasn't sure she believed him. Percy prayed she would, and finally, she recognized the wisdom in Percy's advice for sleep and said, "Okay. Thank you, Percy."

As she left, Percy was sure she didn't believe his lie, but he couldn't admit to her that Balevad was pulling a cover-up. He just hoped he hadn't lost her trust completely.

5:09:31... 5:09:32... 5:09:33... 5:09:34...

Harry had ordered a Portkey from the Auror office to be sent to the beach to pick him and the Churches up. It arrived and Harry brought them both back safely. As they were being debriefed, Harry caught up with Ron.

"How'd it go with the Churches?" Ron asked.

"I caught up to them just as they were about to be killed, so I guess we finally got a lucky break," Harry said.

"Last one of the day?" Ron asked.

"The year more like," Harry said. "What about the Unspeakalbe? Ussary? Did we get him?"

"Him, yes," said Ron, irritably, "after about an hour of chasing him all over the Department of Mysteries."

"And the prophecy?" Harry asked. "Chastity Church's warning?"

Ron shook his head. "Smashed."

Harry groaned. "How?"

"Ussary dropped it when I caught up to him," said Ron.

Harry gasped. "If you were there, why didn't you stop it?"

"I wasn't," said Ron, "I used a spell to trip him up."

"Ron," said Harry, then he cut himself off, because he wasn't sure what he was going to say, just that Ron wouldn't like it. Once he organized his thoughts, he said, "Alright, fine. We'll just have to use Chastity's testimony as evidence."

Harry began to walk back to Robarbs's office, when Ron called out, "Harry, are you mad?"

Harry turned and gave him a look that was at complete odds with his reply. "No, Ron, I'm not."

Harry entered Robarbs's office and closed the door behind him. "How are we doing?" he asked. "Have we gotten anything useful out of Frollo Quince?"

"Nothing," said Robarbs. "He wasn't as involved as we'd hoped."

"Probably Vejovis wasn't happy with his arrest record," said Harry. "Too many deals with the Ministry already."

"My thoughts exactly," said Robarbs. "The only lead we do have at this point is the Unspeakable who stole the Prophecy that promped the Churches being targetted."

"Yeah?" asked Harry.

"Brent Cort gave us his name. It's Vic Fuller. He's a Ministry employee, so we know where he lives. If he wasn't at the safehouse where you found Quince, he might be there."

"And he can lead us to Vejovis," said Harry.

"You and Weasley should head this up."

"Actually, sir-" said Harry. "Is Neville still here?"

Robarbs paused then nodded. "He should be finishing up Cort's debriefing."

"I'm taking Neville with me. Frankly Ron isn't at a hundred percent today."

Robarbs looked at Harry a moment, then said, "If you're sure."

Harry didn't say a word of thanks and left.

5:16:48... 5:16:49... 5:16:50... 5:16:51...

Rita Skeeter poured the tea as Wesley Weaks held the cup for her. She thanked him and sat herself down on one of the plush cushions of her little house and he sipped. It wasn't bad, he thought.

"Thank you for the tea," said Weaks, "and I apologize for intruding at such an early hour, but I've already lost enough time as it is. I need you to tell me what you have on Hermione Granger."

Rita smiled toothily. "Hermione Granger is guilty of blackmail."

That caused Weaks to nearly spill his tea. "Really?"

Rita nodded. "Yes. I can give you all the details."

"Who did she blackmail?" asked Weaks, pulling out a roll of parchment and a self-inking quill.

"She blackmailed me!" said Skeeter, relishing in the attention she was getting. "I feel it is high time I confessed to my misdemeanor. You see, I am an unregistered animagus. I turn into a small beetle. It's most useful in my _former _profession, you see."

"Yes," said Weaks, copying her words manically. Balevad was gonna love this, and boy would she owe him.

"And Hermione Granger, who really is cleverer than we give her credit for, figured me out, but did she report me to the Ministry? No, she blackmailed me into unemployment. I was forced to resign from the Daily Prophet and had to get by writing for tabloids, all because of that wretched little witch."

Weaks nodded. "This is good," he said. "What else can you tell me?"

"All sorts," she said. "Back when I was a writer for the Prophet, I wrote quite a bit on her teenage love drama. I save all my rough drafts if you want a look."

"That's old news," said Weaks. "It'd be better if she was dating Harry Potter. I hear she's dating some other Auror now. Is that all you have?"

"I'm afraid so," said Skeeter. "As I said, she's clever. She hasn't let me anywhere near her unless she's needed me for something."

"I understand," said Weaks. "But not to worry. This blackmailing bit will have effect. Are you prepared for the legal consequences on you if this gets out?"

"Yes," said Skeeter. "The readers miss me. It's time I came clean myself and not let that woman ruin me any longer. It's time I let the Prophet accept me back."

"If you're sure," said Weaks, rising. "Thank you, you've been an enormous help."

Balevad _so _owed him.

5:23:49... 5:23:50... 5:23:51... 5:23:52...

Harry was going over the assault plan on Fuller's house with Neville. "It's only going to be the two of us," he said.

Neville looked up as he drank some of the Auror office's Invigoration Draught. "You don't want Ron in on this?"

As Harry opened his mouth to speak, the wizard in question actually arrived. "I've been interrogating the Unspeakalbe, Ussary. He said the prophecy was stolen by one of his employees named Vic Fuller."

Harry tried very hard not to leg his agitation show, but couldn't ignore a nudge of guilt that he should've been filling Ron in as he went. "We've had his name, Ron. You're a bit behind the times."

Ron looked mutinous. "Were you planning on telling me? Or the rest of the Department?"

Neville gave Harry a knowing look that didn't help Harry's guilt. Meeting Ron's eyes for the first time, Harry beckoned him away. They two walked to the wall, out of earshot from anyone else.

"We need to keep this on the down low," Harry explained. Ron was staring at him with a certain anger. His ears were turning the familiar shade of red.

"The fact of the matter is we don't know who we can trust, right now."

Harry shushed Ron quickly as Ron started to protest loudly, drawing a few eyes from the rest of the office.

"Are you saying you don't know if you can trust me?" Ron hissed in an aggravated whisper.

"I'm saying," Harry tread carefully, "that I don't think you're working at your best at the moment." Ron didn't react, but his angered expression didn't lessen. "You've been distracted all night; showing up late, not getting those fingerprints when I asked you too, failing to get Chastity's prophecy..."

He waited for Ron to give some sort of excuse or explanation, but his friend remained fumingly silent.

"I want you to sit out on this one," said Harry. "Just until you've sorted out whatever it is that's going on, alright?"

Ron nodded, still scowling. "Do you want me to stay here in the office?"

"Please," said Harry. Ron nodded again.

Feeling uncomfortable, Harry returned to his cubicle with Neville to wrap up the plan on raiding Fuller's house. He focused completely on the mission as they noted down to the second how they would handle it. His guilty feelings of benching his friend- his _best _friend- were ignored.

5:30:29... 5:30:30... 5:30:31... 5:30:32...

It was raining lightly as Weaks walked down Diagon Alley, his footsteps oddly loud in the deserted street. He made his way to the only open building, the Daily Prophet.

He entered and waved his wand to dry the rain from his cloak and boots. The maintenence wizards were finishing up the preparation for the printers. Weaks knew he had very little time.

He hurried past them and up the stairs to the journalists's desks where he saw several writers had now come in early, adding their finishing touches to their stories.

Weaks sought out Wynne Pack's desk and saw a short side-column like article on her desk. "It's not much," he said, somewhat dismissively.

Pack looked up at him in irritation. "You the private eye?" she asked rudely.

"That depends. Are you the reporter?"

Pack gave him a demeaning scowl. "No. I come up to the offices at the Daily Prophet to work on my novella."

"Sarcasm," Weaks said fondly. "The refuge of a shallow mind."

"You gonna tell me what you have on Hermione Granger or what?" Pack demanded.

Weaks ripped the page out of his notebook and handed it over. "From Rita Skeeter's mouth to my quill. All true."

Pack accepted the paper and her eyes soared back and forth as she read through his notes.

"This is good," she said, as though sampling a cheese tray. "I'm trying to go for a clueless angle, and her blackmailing a fellow reporter just takes the cake."

"Happy to be of assistance." With that, Weaks was gone.

Pack checked her watch. Twenty minutes to deadline. She picked up her quill and scribbled fast.

5:37:11... 5:37:12... 5:37:13... 5:37:14...

Harry felt very much alone as he approached the building at a crouch, despite Neville doing the same on the front lawn. It dawned on him that it was the third raid that night, and neither of the other two had gone according to plan. One was a trap and the other had been too late to catch the suspect. Either third time's the charm, or these things come in three.

He opened the back door with a silent _Alohomora_ and crept through a kitchen. It was predictably dark and still. Harry heard Neville making the softest of noises as he searched the entranceway and the den. Harry moved right into a dining hall of sorts. Harry met up with Neville in front of a sitting area.

"Bottom floor is clear," said Neville lowering his wand.

Harry raised his higher. "Homonus Revelio," he said and he immediately sensed another presence. "The house isn't empty, though," he said. "Someone's home."

"Yeah, I'm looking at her," said Neville, pointing to the stairway.

Harry turned around with his wand raised, but quickly lowered it once he realized who it was. She was a young blond girl who looked to be twelve or thirteen wearing Muggle pajamas.

"Who are you?" she asked, uneasily.

Harry knealt down, kindly. "I'm from the Ministry," he said, loud enough to be heard, but soft comparatively to his normal speaking voice. "I'm an Auror. I catch Dark Wizards," he added, at the girl's confused looks. "Here." He reached to his hip and unclipped his badge, letting her hold it.

"Oh," she said examining the badge. She sounded worried. "There's not a- bad one here is there?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "No, just us. What's your name, dear?" Neville walked to Harry's right side to watch out the window.

"Wanda Fuller," the girl said promptly.

"I see," said Harry. "Is Vic Fuller your dad?"

Wanda nodded. "Have you come to arrest my dad?"

Harry gave Neville an uneasy look. "Your dad made a few mistakes tonight, love," Harry said. "I don't think he's done anything bad himself," he said quickly, hoping the girl wouldn't get defensive, "but he has been consorting with some bad people and we need him to answer some questions."

"I don't think he'd do anything bad," Wanda said.

"Dear, why don't you wait there," said Neville and Harry stood upright and followed Neville away a bit.

"What are the Auror regulations about children left alone given the arrest of a parent?" asked Neville.

"We'll have to bring her back to the Ministry with us," Harry said. "If her father can't be acquitted, she'll be sent to live with another family member, but we can only legally take her if her father's been arrested."

"Which he hasn't yet," said Neville, gaving a soft huff of aggravation. "But it doesn't feel right just leaving her."

Harry chanced a look at the girl who was watching them intently. "You're right," he said. "We'll have to leave an official notice for Fuller that his daughter's in our custody."

"Think that'll convince him to turn himself in?" asked Neville.

"For Merlin's sake, Neville, it's not a ransom," said Harry, turning away.

"Feels like one," Neville mumbled.

Harry walked over to where Wanda was waiting. "Look, love, you're going to have to come with us."

"Where are you taking me?" asked Wanda.

"Somewhere safe," Neville assured her. "The Ministry of Magic. You dad works there, actually. You ever been?"

Wanda shook her head. "I'm not allowed in the Department of Mysteries."

"You're not missing much," said Harry. "Dreadfully boring place. Go on and get dressed and maybe pack a backpack."

Wanda did as she was told. Harry drew up a piece of parchment.

_Dear Mr. Fuller,_

_You have been summoned by the Auror Office, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic to submit to questioning on the whereabouts of Zeus Vejovis and the implicated theft of Ministry of Magic property, specifically a prophecy that was created earlier this evening. Upon arrival at your place of residence tonight, Ministry officials have taken your daughter, Wanda Fuller, into protective custody until such a time as you have cooperated with the Auror Office and been acquitted of your charges. _

_Sincerely,_

_Harry Potter_

_Auror Office_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement _

Harry read over the notice. It did sound like a ransom note, he thought guiltily. He magicked it onto the front door as Wanda returned downstairs, a pack slung over her shoulder.

"Ready to go?" Harry asked. She nodded. "Excellent. Hold on to my arm, then." She did and Harry disapparated, taking her with him.

5:50:23... 5:50:24... 5:50:25... 5:50:26...

Pack read over the story once more. Everything fit. The story was long enough for a side column on the front page. Perfect.

She magicked it to the right proportions as she walked to her editor's desk and handed it over.

She waited anxiously as the older witch read over it quickly. It wasn't very long, Pack thought. Perhaps it should've been a bit longer, maybe an entire article rather than just a column. As she waited, she felt she could've done better, but the editor nodded and said, "Nice." With a wave of her wand, the article flew away and joined the mesh of printers that were rumbling, ready to start printing.

Pack watched as her work began to copy onto all the newspapers. Hopefully, Malfoy would be pleased. She really needed a potion for a headache. Packing up her purse, she took the office's floo back to her place and collapsed onto her couch, not caring enough to make it all the way to her bed. Sleep deprivation was the devil.

5:53:21... 5:53:22... 5:52:23... 5:53:24...

Ron had just scheduled a time and date for Francis Ussary's trial and signed him over to Azkaban until then. Ron couldn't help thinking the man would likely get off easily. He was a Ministry worker, and especially an Unspeakable. It was perfectly reasonable that he'd try to keep the property of his department secret.

As he sent the letter off to the Wizengamot chairman, he saw Harry and Neville speaking with Robarbs, accompanied by a young girl.

Ron got close enough to hear their conversation.

"We don't know where Fuller is," Harry was saying. "But if he has a daughter, I think he'd want to be home in the morning to take care of her."

So the girl was Fuller's daughter? Why was she here?

"You think taking the girl will convince Fuller to turn himself in?" Robarbs asked. The girl looked shocked.

Ron didn't wait around to hear anymore. He walked to the far side of the office and leaned against the wall. He couldn't believe it. Harry was kidnapping! This was against every Auror regulation, but Robarbs seemed positively pleased with Harry. No doubt Harry planned to ransom the girl for the prophecy Fuller took. It was more than illegal- it was heartless. How far would Harry go to catch these guys?

Ron watched as Robarbs called over a female Auror whom Ron knew to be a mother. The woman kindly escorted the girl to her desk and sat down. Ron followed furtively.

The Auror, whom Ron realized was named Masie, asked, "Would you like anything to eat or drink, Wanda?"

"Just some water, please," Wanda replied.

Masie left and Ron approached softly. "Wanda," he asked and the girl looked up at him. "What have Mr. Potter and Mr. Robarbs been telling you?"

The girl hesitated.

"I'm an Auror, like them," he said, showing her his badge. He looked up. Masie was still gone and Harry was in deep discussion with Neville.

"They said that they needed my dad for something," Wanda started to say.

"Have they told you they're going to give you back to him?" Ron asked, trying to keep his anger hidden.

"They want to," said Wanda, but that was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"This is wrong," said Ron, kneeling down to her level. "They're trying to trade you for some Ministry property that he stole. It's more than wrong- it's illegal!"

Wanda looked fearful.

"Come on," said Ron, standing up again and offering her his hand. "I'll take you back to your house. We'll wait for your father there."

Wanda looked back at Harry, who still hadn't noticed Ron talking to her.

"Quickly!" said Ron.

Wanda took his hand and he rushed her to the lift. No one saw him as the lift reappeared, and Ron looked back to see a very confused Masie with a glass of water at her desk. Ron ushered Wanda into the lift and closed it behind him.

5:59:57... 5:59:58... 5:59:59... 6:00:00


	7. 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM

Recap: Harry and the Auror Office are trying to find a Dark Wizard, Zeus Vejovis. They traced an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries named Vic Fuller back to Vejovis and arrived at Fuller's house and took his daughter, Wanda, into protective custody. Hermione is planning a presentation to instate a House Elf Liaison Office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but political opponents, including a reluctant Percy Weasley, have enlisted _The Daily Prophet _to destroy her reputation. Ron, caught up in both struggles, misinterprets the Auror Office's intentions for Wanda Fuller and flees the building with her.

The following takes place between 6:00 AM and 7:00 AM

6:00:00... 6:00:01... 6:00:02... 6:00:03...

Vic Fuller arrived with a pop in his backyard. Six in the morning, time to wake up Wanda and send her off to school. There were few things Fuller would've left the Requiter's headquarters for, but at the top of the short list was his daughter.

When she was born a Squib, Fuller had been confused. How could this have happened? Magic was what he devoted his life to studying and practicing. His position at the Department of Mysteries was his greatest accomplishment and he felt so privileged to study there. Then, when the Healers at St. Mungo's discovered his daughter was a Squib and his wife left them both in shame, Fuller was lost.

When he met Vejovis, it was a revelation. Vejovis completely reversed everything Fuller had believed. That magic was not meant for humans to study. Wizards completely misused their gift, using it for mundane chores and carefree games. They didn't appreciate the subtle miracles of every ounce of magic they consumed, and Vejovis had committed himself to studying how to return magic to the gods. Fuller joined him, supplying vital information from the Department of Mysteries.

And the best part of it was that Wanda no longer had to be embarrassed about her being a Squib. Fuller had taught her to respect magic and those who practice it, yes, but to embrace her Muggle blood.

As Fuller entered his kitchen he lit the candles and started preparing breakfast. "Wanda!" he called. "Breakfast, love!"

The pan simpered a little but something was wrong. There was no reply and no sound of movement from upstairs. "Wanda?" he called again, but he was met with only silence.

Abandoning breakfast, he went upstairs. Her bedroom door was open and he peered in. The room was completely vacant.

"Wanda!" he yelled throughout the house.

Feeling panicked now, he raced to the front porch to see if there was any sign of her. Nothing.

As he turned around, he saw the notice pinned to the front door. He ripped it off and read it quickly. He'd been found out. "Shit!" he cursed. How could he have forgotten that once tonight's events started, he was very much exposed?

I failed, he realized. Vejovis didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was that he protect Wanda. Flipping the parchment over he replied.

_I will return the prophecy and give you complete cooperation, just please don't take my daughter away from me. I'll be at the Auror Office to turn myself in with the prophecy within the quarter hour. _

He tapped the parchment with his wand once and it turned into a paper airplane and zipped away.

He turned on the spot and Disapparated back to headquarters to steal back the prophecy.

6:03:38... 6:03:39... 6:03:40... 6:03:41...

The time waiting for Fuller to respond was driving Harry mad. Checking his watch, he figured it must be sunup soon. He double-checked with a desk jockey that Brent Cort's debriefing was completed and filed correctly, then sat back to waiting.

Harry started to wonder vaguely what could be going wrong with Ron. There hadn't been anything only the day before. Could the deaths within the office have unhinged Ron that much? Of course not. They were Aurors. The risk of death was everywhere. It was something they all knew and understood.

Harry didn't have time to puzzle it anymore. A letter sent by magic rather than owl, had arrived at his desk. Harry flipped it over. It was the reply from Fuller!

Harry sat up and read it through. Damn, they were ransoming the girl.

_She won't be returned right away, _Harry thought. _He must know that. _

A guilty feeling at the back of his mind told him Fuller didn't.

"Neville!" Harry called. The professor looked up from a letter he was writing to Professor McGonagall. An excuse for being unable to teach, Harry supposed.

"Fuller's agreed to turn himself in. He should be here soon."

"Brilliant," said Neville. "Shall I tell Wanda?"

"No, I will," said Harry. He stood up and started to make his way toward Masie's desk before he realized she wasn't there.

Harry stopped by a desk jockey's cubicle- Diggle, he thought his name was. "Have you seen Masie?"

The wizard shook his head and Harry moved on. He started searching the surrounding cubicles, occasionally asking someone if they'd seen her.

After a while, Harry started to get anxious. Where could she be? He then saw her enter the office from the corridor leading to the lift, but Wanda wasn't with her.

"Masie!" Harry called and the older witch hurried to him. "Where's Wanda?"

"I have no idea," said Masie, frantically. "I just turned around to get her some water and when I got back, she was gone."

A nearby Auror overheard them and lifted his head. "The little girl? Maybe twelve years old? Yea big? Blond hair?"

"Yes," said Harry. "You seen her?"

"I saw Weasley take her out of the office about five minutes ago."

Harry blinked. Ron had done what?

Thinking fast, Harry yelled to Neville, "Send an alert down to security. Ron Weasley is not to leave the building."

Harry ran to the lift and started pressing the button repeatedly. It was moving entirely too slow, but as there were very few other Ministry workers in at this hour, he didn't stop at the other floors.

Upon arriving at the Atrium, he forced the lift doors open and ran to the security desk. "Did Ronald Weasley come by here just a little while ago?" he yelled, running towards the desk.

"Yeah, he did," said a bemused security wizard as Harry raced past.

Harry rushed to the floo fireplace and threw himself into it. He immediately found himself in darkness at a back alley in London. He ran down the alley and took a right, praying it was the right way. There, at the end of a long street, he saw Ron holding Wanda's hand and walking quickly toward the busier streets of Muggle London.

Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated, turning up directly in front of Ron. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, catching Ron off guard. Ron's wand shot out of his hand and Harry caught it. Without waiting for a reaction, Harry rushed at Ron and threw him up against the wall . "What the hell were you thinking?" Harry shouted at the back of Ron's head. "I should have you arrested for kidnapping!" Harry hesitated briefly. Then, he forced Ron's hands behind his back and bound them with magic.

"Wanda, your father's coming to get you soon," Harry explained to the bewildered looking twelve year old. "Let's get back inside."

He forced Ron to turn around and walked him back to the floo entrance, Wanda following close.

6:08:29... 6:08:30... 6:08:31... 6:08:32...

Hermione had just finished putting her tea on the burner and slid her toast into the toaster when there came the rapping at her window. She'd returned to the house right after Percy had dismissed her and fallen asleep immediately, but her total for the night was still no more than two or three hours.

She opened the window to let the screech owl in and paid him for the Daily Prophet, then flipped it right-side up on the table.

The tea kettle started whistling and Hermione abandoned the paper to see to it and the toast.

After she'd composed herself, she sat at the table and looked at the headlines. She was unsurprised to see the story that Ron had warned her about, the two Aurors and their entire families were killed the day before. Sipping her tea uncomfortably, she prayed silently, but she didn't know what for.

Then, she saw the side column headline.

_Hermione Granger: Clever or Clueless? _

_Wynne Pack_

_The well known witch, close friend and former girlfriend to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger has been making a name for herself in the Ministry of Magic with a campaign for elf rights. The witch started her crusade against magical conservatism in her fourth year at Hogwarts, and has done a remarkable job keeping her struggle quiet, the better to sneak past any opposition. _

_Thusly, her new plans for a House-Elf Liaison Office within the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures has been kept on the down-low for several months now. The Wizengamot will hear her presentation and meet with her today on the matter, but Hermione Granger might very well find herself in front of them again shortly after these allegations._

_Rita Skeeter, exceptional veteran of the Daily Prophet, has exclusively announced why she was forced to resign her position at the Daily Prophet and it is because of this young witch. Skeeter has announced that she is an Unregistered Animagus and that Hermione Granger saw her transform back during Skeeter's coverage of the Tri-Wizard Tournament held five years ago. Granger blackmailed Skeeter out of the job, rather than report the misdemeanor to the Improper Use of Magic Office, and there have been unconfirmed rumors of Miss Granger blackmailing other parties as well. _

_Whether this will affect the Wizengamot's opinion of her as they make this decision remains to be seen, but a small group of protesters has planned a march on Miss Granger's place of residence this morning at 6 and have issued an invitation to anybody else to support their opposition for her influence in our government. _

Hermione had dropped her mug at the mention of her blackmail. It had seemed like such a simple thing to do when she was fifteen. She had never thought of the legality of her own actions.

And a protest outside her house? There wasn't any-

_Pop!_

She looked out her window. Several people were now Apparating off the road and marching toward her house in the dark, some of them holding torches or signs that read, "Granger Danger!" or "Wizards First!" They seemed to have been made rather hurriedly and Hermione realized why. There had been no planned protest, but when this reporter- Wynne Pack- said there would be, everyone who opposed her had decided to join in.

The protesters saw her in her window and started yelling and jeering. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but she got the message.

They hated her.

6:11:39... 6:11:40... 6:11:41... 6:11:42...

Ron was bound by a spell to his cubicle. Harry had been watching him sit in his chair miserably. After a few minutes of this, Harry approached him, his expression fuming.

Ron met Harry's eyes bravely when his friend approached.

"Explain," Harry said, curtly.

Ron scowled up at him. "You're ransoming that poor girl for the prophecy."

"That's not what this is!" said Harry. "He's being investigated for theft of Ministry property at the very least, not to mention interfering with a DMLE investigation and conspiracy to use Dark Magic. We couldn't let his daughter get more involved."

"But you can't trade her for the prophe-"

"I never intended to!" Harry yelled over him, attracting several eyes from the rest of the office. "I don't know how everyone got the idea that we would release Wanda back into Fuller's care if he turned himself in and returned the prophecy, but that was never what I was going to do!"

The rest of the office was watching now. Suddenly, there was a commotion near the corridor, distracting Harry, then he did a double-take. Vic Fuller had arrived to turn himself in just in time to hear Harry's rant and tried to escape. The Hit Wizards at the office entrance held him back. Harry left Ron to his cubicle and hurried to them.

Fuller was looking at Harry, and his eyes darted to Harry's forehead. "Potter," he growled. "You said you'd-"

"You turned yourself in willingly and that won't be forgotten," said Harry. "It won't be decided right now what will happen to your daughter, but I have friends in Magical Law if you cooperate." Harry saw the prophecy Fuller was clutching tightly in his left hand.

Harry held out his hand and Fuller gave it up.

"Thank you," said Harry. Then, to the Hit Wizards, "Take him to holding."

They started to comply when Fuller gave an agonized shout and fell to his knees. His eyes were wide with fear and he clutched at his chest. He yelled again and Harry called out, "Get a mediwizard up here, now!" and he rushed to Fuller's side and laid him on his back.

Wanda, who'd been sitting at Harry's cubicle, stood up and ran over, screaming "Dad!"

"Wanda, stay away!" Fuller yelled through his pain. Then he gave another agonized shout, and Wanda kept running to him, shoving past the bewildered Hit Wizards and Harry to get to her father's side.

"Wanda, get out of here!" Fuller yelled. "I don't want you to see this!" His back arched and his voice caught as whatever was happening to him struck again. Fuller looked at Harry with beseeching eyes and choked out, "Cover... her... eyes..."

Realizing what must be happening, Harry grabbed Wanda and forcibly turned her away from her father. He heard the sound of tearing flesh behind him as Fuller's heart ripped itself out of his body, the product of one of Vejovis's curses.

Wanda was screaming now and Harry lifted her up and carried her to Robarbs's office, hoping she hadn't seen the bloody body of her father.

They had to be close enough to cast a curse like this, Harry realized as he closed the door to Robarbs office.

Vejovis had more people inside the Ministry.

6:17:39... 6:17:40... 6:17:41... 6:17:42...

Percy dropped the newspaper in surprise. Guilt clutched at his chest like a Dementor. He knew Balevad was willing to go far to stop the Liaison Office, but to the point of creating a massive protest outside Hermione and Ron's house? That was crossing the line.

Percy sat down at his desk. What could he do? He was in too deep to get himself out of this. Balevad had so much power and backing in the Ministry, if he tried to persuade her to back off, he could kiss any position in the Ministry goodbye.

In the end, he started to write a letter.

_Dear Ursula,_

He looked down at the two words, wondering what he could possibly say next.

_I understand that importance of stopping this Liaison Office._

Reading over the first sentence, he waved his wand and erased it. It simply wasn't true. _Whose side are you on? _he asked himself.

"Percy!"

Percy turned to see Hermione's head in his personal floo fireplace. "Hermione!" he said, crouching down to eye level. "I just read the paper! Is there really a protest outside your house?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "There's already nearly a hundred. I won't be able to get out of the house to avoid them."

"Couldn't you Apparate?"

Hermione shook her head. "Ron's an Auror. There's anti-Apparition spells all around the house."

"Could you make a portkey?"

Hermione gave Percy a demeaning look. "I was just accused of blackmail, I'm not about to commit another misdemeanor."

"You aren't even denying the blackmail?" Percy demanded.

"Percy, focus!" Hermione yelled. "I need you to pick me up in a Ministry car."

Percy gulped. "Me?"

"I can't reach Ron," said Hermione. "His fireplace was locked and Harry wasn't in his cubicle. Something's going on in the Auror office, they've been there all night. Please, Percy, I need your help."

Percy sighed in exasperation. "Alright. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you!" said Hermione. And she disappeared.

How could one get a Ministry car without Balevad finding out? Percy wondered.

6:23:00... 6:23:01... 6:23:02... 6:23:03...

Harry watched as Fuller's body was covered in a white sheet. Embalming spells were placed on it, and a few Aurors carried it to the Auror office morgue.

Neville approached Harry and said, "Wanda's across the hall with Magical Law. They're going to find the next of kin. She'll be okay."

Harry nodded silently. "Shall we listen to the prophecy?" Neville asked, and Harry nodded again.

The two men made their way to Harry's cubicle, and Harry tried very hard not to look at Ron who was still magically confined to his desk.

Harry sat down and Neville leaned against the desk. The prophecy Harry recovered from Fuller sat on the desk and Harry waved his wand over it. The misty figure of Chastity Church rose up above it and spoke in an ethereal voice.

_The day of Jupiter has come_

_When his vengeance will be swift and cruel_

_The theft of magic will be terrible_

_And there will be death and bloodshed_

_Such wizard-kind has not known in years_

_The day of Jupiter has come_

The misty figure disappeared and the prophecy was silent once more. "Death and bloodshed such wizard-kind has not known in years?" Neville asked.

"They're planning a massive attack," Harry explained. "Fuller could've told us what." He looked back at the place where Fuller had died and saw Magical Maintenance cleaning up the blood stains. "Who's working on the lead of who summoned Fuller's heart?" Harry asked.

"Robarbs is heading it up personally," said Neville. "Doesn't seem to trust much of anyone after Nestor Hoolihan betrayed his own people."

"I can understand why," said Harry. "Vejovis has much more influence in the Ministry than anyone anticipated until today. We need to be careful."

Harry turned back to the prophecy and thought about it a moment. "The theft of magic... and the day of Jupiter..."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a bell was ringing. "Neville," he said, "how much do you remember from History of Magic?"

Neville snorted. "Less than you."

Harry met his eye. "I remember Binns giving a lecture on an incident in the fifteenth century... someone attempted to place a curse on Britain so that every witch and wizard lost their magical abilities. I also think Jupiter had something to do with it."

Neville looked at Harry blankly. "I don't remember anything about that."

"The theft of magic," he said. "What if they're trying to do that?"

"I don't know," said Neville. "Is it even possible? I mean, obviously magic wasn't stolen from Britain since we have it."

"Still," said Harry. "I definitely remember reading something about that somewhere, and Vejovis is way too powerful to just dismiss this as a type of magic that isn't possible. I'm going to make this a priority. Report to the Minister. See what he says."

"Make sure Robarbs knows, too," Neville advised. Harry checked the time. It was after 6:30. The sun was rising. He felt like his day should be over, not beginning.

He stood up and walked to Robarbs' office door. He let himself in without knocking. Robarbs looked up disinterestedly.

"Sir," Harry said. "The prophecy refers to a 'theft of magic'. I remember something from History of Magic about a dark wizard attempting to take away the magical abilities of every witch and wizard in Britain with a single curse. I think Vejovis may be attempting to do just that."

Robarbs didn't look convinced, and even as Harry said it, he knew it sounded lame. "Potter, there's no such curse," the Head Auror said. "I've been working on a real lead. This came in a while ago." He handed a piece of parchment over and Harry read it quizzically.

"Thorfinn Rowle?" Harry asked. "He's dead. Died years ago."

"Yes," said Robarbs. "But during Voldemort's reign of terror two years ago, Thorfinn Rowle made a curse just like those four that happened this morning at the Muggle locations all over Britain. The curse was one of Voldemort's."

"So what?" Harry asked, earning him a stern look from Robarbs.

"So other former Death Eaters may be involved with Vejovis now," said Robarbs. "I want you to bring in Lucius Malfoy."

"What does he have to do with anything?" asked Harry.

"A former Death Eater may be able to tell us more about that curse and how Vejovis's men know how to cast it," Robarbs explained.

"Sir," Harry said, losing patience. "I think that's a waste of time. This theft of magic prophecy should be top priority, because if Vejovis has found a way to-"

"To steal magic out of a person's blood?" Robarbs asked, incredulously. "We don't have time or resources to follow up on an invalid lead from a fortuneteller. We're trying to deal with real attacks."

"But the Minister should be told-"

"Told what, exactly?" asked Robarbs. "Do as I say. Bring in Lucius Malfoy."

Harry met Robarbs' eyes with a cold stare. "Yes, sir."

6:38:15... 6:38:16... 6:38:17... 6:38:18...

The Ministry car rolled up the long driveway, driving slowly as the protesters were not moving quickly to get out its way.

Percy grimaced as he saw how bad it really was. If Hermione thought the threatening letter was bad, some of these signs must have her in tears.

Some of the protesters saw the Ministry Seal on the car and began to applaud, apparently thinking the Ministry was coming to arrest Hermione. _They'll be disappointed,_ Percy thought.

He made it through the crowd and parked in front of the house. He pushed the door open and stepped out, the early sun making him cringe. The crowd was yelling at him, "Take her in! Arrest her!"

Percy said nothing as he turned away from them. Surely there must be a reporter or two in the crowd. He didn't want to make a statement.

He rapped on the door and did his best to ignore the roaring crowd until Hermione answered.

"Hi," she said. "Thank you so much. I had no idea this would happen."

"Me neither," Percy said truthfully. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Just about," Hermione answered as she carried several large rolled-up posters and a flimsy wooden stand. "For my presentation," she explained. Percy nodded.

He led the way back to his car. Some people in the crowd began to realize that they were not about to witness an arrest and began to shout at Percy. He steeled his gaze away from them and walked deliberately to the car. Hermione held her head high. Percy was surprised. She was quite good at hiding her nerves.

She put her materials in the expansive back seat and sat in the passenger side. She watched from the window as Percy drove past the protesters wondering how things had gotten so messed up.

6:41:15... 6:41:16... 6:41:17... 6:41:18...

Harry and Neville arrived at the Malfoy manor. There was a Patrol Wizard stationed there to ensure Lucius Malfoy did not violate his house arrest.

"Aurors, Potter and Longbottom," Harry said, flashing his badge. Harry noticed the Patrol Wizard's eyes dart to Harry's forehead, then back to eye-contact.

"Patrolman Abbott, sir," the older man said, shaking Harry's hand.

"We've come to escort Lucius Malfoy to the Auror Office for questioning," Harry explained, passing over a sheet of parchment. "Mr. Robarbs' signature. A copy has been mailed to your boss as well."

"This appears to be in order," said Abbott, reading over the orders. "I'll come with you." The gate opened and the three men strode past the white peacocks up to the house.

Abbott opened the door and led the way. Harry thought of the last time he was in the Malfoy Manor, imprisoned in the basement. As they passed the drawing room, his eyes went automatically to the spot where they'd Disapparated and Bellatrix had thrown the knife that killed Dobby. A surge of hatred rose up within him and he reminded himself to remain professional.

They entered the kitchen. Malfoy's back was to them, seated at the table. "Donovan," came the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy, reading the paper and drinking tea. "I don't recall inviting you in for breakfast."

"Get dressed," Abbott said by way of greeting. "You're being picked up."

Malfoy turned in his chair to see Harry and Neville. "Ah, Potter," he said, and a disgusted smile slid across his face. "I heard you were an Auror. Your name still pops up in _The Prophet_, from time to time. Can't seem to get away from the presses, can you?"

"Lucius Malfoy, we need to ask you some questions," Neville said. "You are required under the terms of your house-arrest to attend."

"Thank you for the house arrest, by the way," Malfoy said as he folded up the paper and stood up. "Azkaban was never agreeable with me, but I heard you took steps to have the Dementors dismissed from Ministry employ. Famous Harry Potter, already making a difference."

"Would you like to change in something more presentable?" Harry asked, ignoring him. Malfoy looked down at his casual robes. "Perhaps I should." He made his way into the bedroom, followed closely by the Aurors and Patrol Wizard.

"It's lucky you caught me, I didn't have plans today," Malfoy jibed as he pulled his house robes over his head and threw magicked them into a hamper. Harry knew Malfoy was being ironic. The conditions of his house arrest forbade him from going anywhere.

"At least I will get to go outside for the first time in- well, awhile." Malfoy adjusted his new robes and waved his wand so that his hair straightened, tied itself into a ponytail, and fell.

"Almost two years," Neville said.

"That long," said Malfoy. "I'm sure so much has changed."

6:43:36... 6:43:37... 6:43:38... 6:43:39...

Percy handed over the keys to the Ministry car at the Magical Maintenance desk, Hermione hanging back somewhat, still clutching the flimsy wooden stand and materials for her presentation. She'd hardly spoken a word the entire ride.

Percy walked back to her slowly with his hands in the pockets of his robes. "You've still got an hour before your presentation," he said, delicately. "Why don't you wait in my office and calm down?"

Hermione nodded absently.

Awkwardly, Percy led her to the lift. The witch remained silent as they took the lift down to the Minister's offices. Percy led the way to his office. It was unkept, Percy not having an opportunity to clean it at all during the night's excitements.

"Take a seat. Might as well wait here."

Hermione sat down across from Percy. Percy began reading the memos he'd missed with the last half hour and Hermione started flipping over her notes. All Percy could do was hope Hermione didn't notice him stewing in his own guilt.

6:47:27... 6:47:28... 6:47:29... 6:47:30...

The Hit Wizards forced Lucius Malfoy into the Interrogation Room. The magic quill in Robarbs' office was already documenting everything he was saying. Harry, Neville, Robarbs and the Patrol Wizard assigned to Malfoy, Abbott, were watching.

"Suppose if Malfoy's under your jurisdiction for the moment, no need for me to be here," Abbott said, and he excused himself.

"Might as well get started," Robarbs said.

Harry led the way out of the office, Neville following closely behind. As they crossed the room, Harry chanced a look over at Ron's desk. He was still magically confined to the cubicle, watching Harry and Neville. His expression was unreadable.

Harry and Neville entered the Interrogation Room and excused the two Hit Wizards. Lucius Malfoy tried to stay cool, but Harry could see the minuscule beads of sweat forming at the man's brow.

6:48:47... 6:48:48... 6:48:49... 6:48:50...

Abbott was among the better Patrol Wizards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement could've assigned to oversee Malfoy's house arrest. As soon as he'd left the Auror Office, he walked straight to the Minister's offices and found Draco Malfoy lobbying.

"The Auror Office is interrogating your father," Abbott said.

"What?" Malfoy practically screamed, drawing several looks from the other lobbyists who arrive at the Ministy before seven o'clock. "Do you know why?" Malfoy asked, in a lowered voice.

"Something about the curses that went off around midnight last night," Abbott explained. "There's something about that in the paper. No wizards were killed, so it's not something that'll be important. But apparently, they just need to interrogate a Death Eater."

"This is ridiculous," Malfoy said. He was silent for a moment, thinking carefully. Abbott thought it best not to interfere.

"Alright," said Malfoy. "I have an idea." He motioned for Abbott to follow him and led the way to the lift back to the Auror Office.

As he entered, he watched as the Aurors and desk jockeys did their work, scanning the room until he found who he was looking for. He weaved his way around the workers and cubicles and came to Ron's desk.

"Weasley," he greeted, not rudely. "I think I may be able to help you."

Ron looked at Malfoy with mistrust. "I know why you've been benched," said Malfoy, thankful for the moment to know the Muggle expression, hoping to appeal to Weasley's Muggle-love. "You're distracted from your work because of the political pressure on your girlfriend's plans for a Liaison Office," said Malfoy. He could tell Ron was listening aptly. Abbott watched the scene with disinterest.

"I have considerable influence in the Ministerial offices and the Wizengamot," Malfoy said, sounding as if he were trying not to brag. "Do me a favor, and I can alleviate some of the pressure on this presentation."

"You'd do that?" asked Ron.

"My father's been humiliated enough," said Malfoy. "I don't want this connecting back to him. I have influence over Robarbs as well. If I ask, I can get you promoted to team leader. You'd be Potter's superior. In return, you have to release my father back into Magical Patrol custody and he'll continue his house arrest sentence."

"And you'll help Hermione with the political pressures?" asked Ron.

Malfoy hesitated. "I won't help her... but I can prevent others from hurting her."

Ron hesitated. Then, "Deal. Get me out of this."

Abbott lifted the bind on Ron with his D.M.L.E badge and Malfoy led the way to Robarbs's office.

Robarbs was reading the documentation of Malfoy Sr.'s interview. He looked up as Draco, Ron, and Abbott entered. "I thought you were confined to your desk," Robarbs said, suspiciously.

"The name Malfoy still counts for something in _some_ circles," Malfoy drawled. "You owe me a favor Robarbs."

Malfoy was aware of Ron's ears perking up. It didn't matter. He was collecting.

"I want this Auror reinstated and his record cleared. He was acting in the best interest of the Auror Office. Also, why don't you throw in a promotion? Make him team leader. Put Potter under his command for once."

Robarbs was watching Malfoy with mistrust. He was clearing weighing his options. Ron wondered what Malfoy could possibly have on Robarbs to make Robarbs even consider the deal, let alone-

"Done." Robarbs reached into his desk and handed over Ron's wand and badge. "Don't make me regret this," he said. "Either of you."

"Yes, sir," said Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, I believe you have a witness to release," said Malfoy.

Ron looked at Robarbs who waved his hand in dismissal.

Turning about, Ron led the way outside Robarbs's office to the Interrogation room. He opened the door, passing the two Hit Wizards stationed outside.

"Stop the interrogation," Ron ordered, authoritatively.

Harry and Neville looked up in surprise, speechless.

"Mr. Abbott," Ron said, "Lucius Malfoy is released back into your custody."

Malfoy Sr. and Malfoy Jr's lips both curled into a smile. "Thank you for having me, gentlemen," said Lucius, rising.

"Gawain," Harry said.

Robarbs didn't meet his eye. "Weasley's been reinstated. Team leader. You answer to him now, Potter."

Harry watched as Abbott and the two Malfoys left the room without another word.

6:59:57... 6:59:58... 6:59:59... 7:00:00...

A/N: Wow, this is the first time I've updated since school started, I think. I just remember working on this chapter during the Alabama-Michigan band trip and now it's nearly two months later. I just got back from the Tennessee game (Alabama's number one! Roll Tide!).

Anyway, now it's done. This update was brought to you by inspiration from Jules5's "Life and Times". She updated and her workload has to be worse than mine, so I didn't have an excuse. Don't expect many updates between now and the rest of the semester, though. Barely keeping my head above water with grades here. Kids, don't be music majors.


	8. 7:00 AM to 8:00 AM

7:00:00... 7:00:01... 7:00:02... 7:00:03...

Harry stood in a stupor after the Malfoys left the interrogation room. He could still see them making their way out the exit, down the corridor to the lift.

"Gawain," he said again, looking to the Head Auror.

"It's been done," said Robarbs. "That'll be the end of it. You answer to Weasley now, Potter. All's been forgiven."

This made no sense. Ron had been out of the loop for the past hour, and now Robarbs was putting him in charge of all the operations? What the hell was going on?

"What do you want us to do now, sir?" Neville asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Robarbs made a face and didn't meet anyone's eye. "Find another lead." And he hurriedly left the room and stormed back into his office. In a second, the blinds covered his window.

Harry and Neville followed Ron back to his cubicle as Ron called over his shoulder, "So what's next?"

Harry's mind raced, trying to sort out what could be done. Robarbs said to find a lead- might the one he'd picked up on about an hour ago that Robarbs had dismissed?

"Chastity Church's prophecy," said Harry. He reached into the folds of his robes and pulled out the parchment he'd copied it down on. "Vejovis is planning more for today, some sort of massive attack."

Ron's eyes moved left-to-right as he read the prophecy. "What have you two been doing about it?"

"Nothing," said Harry. "Robarbs didn't take it seriously. He told us to disregard it."

"So why are you bringing it up?" Ron asked. He didn't sound rude when he said it, but Harry wasn't in a mood to interpret correctly.

"Because I think he's wrong."

Ron sat at his cubicle, looking over the prophecy and thinking hard. Harry told himself to keep his temper. Ron was trying to do the right thing, Harry knew that, but this wasn't the day to make decisions slowly.

"What do you think we should do?" Ron asked.

"Take it to the Minister," Harry said quickly. "Let him decide if it's worth worrying about."

"But Robarbs told you not to?" said Ron.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Yes, but as I said, I think he's wrong."

"So let's prove him wrong," said Neville, interrupting. "Let's see if there's any validity to this threat before we involve the Minister."

"How?" asked Harry.

"Floo to Hogwarts," said Neville. "Look up this kind of curse in the library and see if we can find any reason Vejovis could pull it off."

"I agree," said Ron. "Let's go."

As Harry followed Ron and Neville to the Auror fireplace, he knew Neville and Robarbs were right, that the Minister couldn't be bothered with a nearly impossible attack, but Harry had a horrible gut feeling that it wasn't as impossible as the Ministry hoped.

They flooed one by one to Neville's office on the first floor. "This way," said Neville, taking the lead.

"We aren't complete novices to the school, Neville," Harry said. "We lived here for six years, after all."

They would've gotten lost if Neville hadn't led them up to the fourth floor, east wing.

The library was already open, Madam Pince giving them begrudging permission to enter her hallowed halls. The Ministry badges didn't impress her all that much.

They started in the history section looking for any books on massive curses. Harry couldn't help checking his watch every so often and hoping every time he did that he was wrong.

7:11:10... 7:11:11... 7:11:12... 7:11:13...

Percy unlocked the door to his office and held it open as Hermione entered, still lugging all her presentation materials with her. "You can set that anywhere," he said, and she laid it carefully on the floor against the wall.

"You've still got nearly an hour before your presentation," Percy said, avoiding eye contact. "Take a seat, relax, maybe make some tea. I've got some people I need to talk to."

Hermione nodded, still absent minded. She'd hardly said a word the entire ride to the Ministry. Percy wondered if she was still shaken by the protest or if she was just distracted by the impending presentation.

Percy left her in his office and made his way down the upper-level corridor. He stopped at Balevad's office and knocked. "Come in," came her voice.

He stepped through the door and closed the door behind him. The room was fairly dark and Balevad was sitting at her desk. She didn't appear to be occupied with anything.

"Weasley," she said. "What are you doing here?"

Percy cleared his throat. "I want to know what you did."

Balevad's eyes narrowed. "I solved our problems. Hermione Granger has been completely discredited because of the work I've done in the past five hours."

"How did you do it?"

"I've been working with Draco Malfoy," she said.

Percy tried not to let his surprise show. "What does Malfoy have to do with this?"

"Malfoy shares similar concerns as me for conserving magical culture, including the status quo for house elves. He found a reporter to run the story, and I found the dirt to put in it. Congratulations. We might have won the day before it even began."

Percy said nothing. He was feeling less and less comfortable with the entire situation.

"You haven't done nearly enough," Balevad accused, bluntly.

Percy started. "Come again?"

"Don't pull any of your mediocre-at-best political bullshit on me," Balevad said. "Ask anyone in this building- half of the Ministry answers to me. I know politics. You could've gone to your brother days ago, but you didn't." She stood now, and Percy fought hard from taking a step back. _You're a Gryffindor,_ he told himself.

"You do believe we're acting in our best interest in this, Weasley."

It wasn't a question.

"I know."

Balevad nodded and sat back down. "I would expect a little more loyalty from you next time, Weasley."

Percy didn't say anything. He waited to see if she had anything more to say. She wasn't looking at him. He turned back and left the office.

7:18:28... 7:18:29... 7:18:30... 7:18:31...

Hermione was sitting at Percy's desk when she saw it. It was an interdepartmental memo and she recognized Ron's signature. Interested, she picked up the memo and read it.

What she saw made her sit down.

_Percy, _

_Someone is threatening Hermione about the liaison office. I know what you're gonna say, that I should be trying to convince her it's a bad idea, but I need to meet again. I can't get away from the Office at the moment, so just don't leave until I can come by._

_Ron_

Percy was acting against her? And worst of all, Ron knew?

The office door opened and Percy stepped in.

"How are you feeling?" Then, Percy noticed the look on her face and the memo in her hand. "What's that?"

Hermione handed it over. Percy took one look and Hermione saw his eyes widen. "You told Ron to talk me out of this presentation?"

Hermione could practically hear the excuses chasing each other around in Percy's mind.

"Do you not believe I'm doing the right thing here?" Hermione demanded.

"Hermione, I-" Percy stopped short. What could he say?

"I may not be acting in the best political interest of everyone at the Ministry," Hermione said, "but I promise you. This is the right thing to do. And if you don't believe that, then I don't want to talk to you."

Hermione stood up and walked past Percy to pick up her presentation materials. She struggled slightly to open the door to the office, then she was gone. She thought about going to the Auror Office to wait for her presentation, but she knew Ron must be busy with the threat, or he would've contacted her. She might as well head to the courtroom downstairs and wait.

7:28:59... 7:29:00... 7:29:01... 7:29:02...

Harry's mind felt numb after reading the seventh chapter of _Greco-Roman Maladies_:_ A Study on Early Western Civilization Dark Magic. _He was beginning to lose confidence in finding anything when he heard Neville say in a raised whisper, "I've found something."

Harry and Ron leapt out of their seats and hurried to read over Neville's shoulder.

_As early as the rule of Julius Caesar, members of the Roman Senate worked with powerful dark wizards to develop what they called the Facem Mugglum. It was a project the Roman government worked on for centuries, making very little progress. It wasn't until the fall of the Western Roman Empire when an unknown wizard developed an artifact called a Canister that drained the magic out of a wizard's bloodstream, stripping them of the ability to perform magic. The efforts to expand on the magic continued into the 15th Century, when the Dark wizard known only as Jupiter manufactured a Canister powerful enough to drain the magic out of every wizard in the country. The Canister was destroyed by a wizard named Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington who was knighted for his gallantry. _

"Gents," said Neville, "do we not know exactly where we can find this Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington right now?"

7:38:07... 7:38:08... 7:38:09... 7:38:10...

The Regal Gauntlet was the traditional dining place of Ministry officials. It was located in the atrium and served the highest Ministry officials every day. It was here that Draco Malfoy chose to win over Gregor Lynstarr, one of the few members of the Wizengamot who was still on the fence over the House-Elf rights issue. Draco wasn't going to give Granger the opportunity to get him on her side.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Lynstarr," Draco said with his most suave voice. He'd ordered a large breakfast, hoping to keep Lynstarr from thinking too hard at the meeting. _Keep him focused on the eggs and kippers_, he told himself.

"Thank you for bringing me out here for breakfast. Over thirty years at the Ministry and I've hardly ever eaten breakfast at the Gauntlet. Can you believe it?"

"You hardly look older than thirty years, and you've been working here that long?" Draco asked with a chuckle, which Lynstarr genially returned.

"Did you read that article by Wynne Pack in the prophet last night?" asked Draco, sipping at his coffee.

Lynstarr nodded halfway. "I'm surprised at her accusations. I've met Hermione Granger on occasion or two, and I've always been very charmed by her."

"Oh, there's no denying, she has that affect," said Draco. "What do you think will happen in the courtroom this morning?"

Lynstarr halfway shrugged as he chewed a sausage. "I've never thought much on house-elf rights before. Hermione Granger has made a very clever political tactic of finding a niche in an issue that no one has politicized on before. I'm actually going into the presentation with an open mind."

"Then listen to me with an open mind," said Draco. "Look at every historical example of a radical change in the social status of unpaid workers. The economy, excuse my language, goes to shit. We're still recovering from the Thicknesse era recession and the last thing we need is an entire community of jobless house elves which is what the Elf Liaison Office will lead to if we allow it to happen. There are still wizard families without jobs. The House Elves have always existed to serve us- taking that away right now will be kicking the wizarding community while we're down."

Lynstarr was listening with interest at this point.

"Sir," Draco continued, "do you know how many House Elves live and work in the United Kingdom right now? Over two thousand. That's a huge percentage of the magical population. You'll be adding at least twelve percent to the unemployment rate. House elves cannot be given these rights, at least not right now."

Lynstarr sat his flatware on his plate and called the waiter over. Once the dishes were taken up, Lynstarr said, "I honestly hadn't thought of it that way, Draco."

Draco leaned back and wiped his lips with his napkin. "And I know Granger wouldn't have even mentioned the economic ramifications. There's no upside." He stood up and laid down a sack of Galleons for the bill. "Nice meeting with you, Mr. Lynstarr. If you'll excuse me."

He walked away. Mission accomplished.

7:46:56... 7:46:57... 7:46:58... 7:46:59...

As Harry, Ron, and Neville were making their way from the library on the fourth floor, the corridors around them slowly began to fill with students heading toward their first class of the day. Harry heard a few muttering to themselves, "Damn... only five hours of sleep last night."

_You have no idea,_ was all Harry could think.

As they passed the third floor corridor, Harry heard a voice call out to him, "Mr. Potter!"

All three turned to see a tall man, with a dark, peppery beard walking toward him. "Good morning, Professor Williams," said Neville, as the man approached. "Er- Ron, have you met our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

"No, I haven't," said Ron, shaking his hand. "Your accent... American?"

"Boston, born and raised," the wizard said, then he turned his attention to Harry. "You're early."

Harry allowed a brief moment of confusion, then realized. "Oh! Of course, the lecture for your seventh-years. That's today."

Williams nodded, and said, "But not until this afternoon."

"Right," said Harry. "To be honest, I forgot all about it. Er- I might have to reschedule. We're actually in the middle of a case at the moment, and I'm hoping to wrap it up before then, but I can't promise anything."

"Oh, of course, I understand," said Williams. "Well, if you can make it, my seventh years are really looking forward to it."

"Got it," said Harry. "I'll try and make it. See you later, then."

They began making their way to the Great Hall again and Ron asked, "You rally think we can have this case wrapped up by this afternoon?"

"As fast as the Requiters are working, that might be all the time we have to stop them," Harry said. "Let's hurry."

As they descended the marble staircase to the Great Hall, Harry noticed that Ron was in step behind him. It was as if Robarbs had never put him in charge, and Harry was running the case again. Harry was about to remind Ron, when he realized- it was deliberate. Ron knew that Harry leading the case would get results faster, and he had only done whatever it was he'd done to get out of the arrest and get back to work.

With a newfound sense of appreciation for his partner, they entered the Great Hall.

"Nick!" Neville called, and Harry saw the familiar face of the Gryffindor House ghost.

"Good morning, Professor Longbottom," said the ghost, tipping his wobbly head in their direction. "And of course, Harry Potter! How marvelous to see you again! And... oh... hello to you as well, Mr. Weasley."

"Hi, Nick," said Ron, guiltily. Harry recalled how Ron had often accidentally offended Nick.

"Nick, I'm here on Auror business," said Harry, breaking the tension. "What can you tell me about the curse you stopped?"

Nick hesitated. "You mean Jupiter?"

"Yes, he's the one," said Ron. "We think someone's trying to replicate the curse."

Nick closed his eyes and cast his mind back, trying to recall a memory. "It was when I was a young man, a wizard disguised in the court trying to become a knight and practicing magic in secret. There was another squire in training named Mason who hated magic and everyone who practiced it with a burning passion. I overheard him talking one day that he'd found a man who was going to try to use magic against the wizards and destroy every last one of them. He went to the forge and had the smith fashion a cylindrical artifact about nineteen inches in height with a spout like a teapot that was covered by a lid on a hinge."

"That's the canister," said Harry.

"Yes, it was," said Nick. "And although the canister was quite small, and golden, and perfectly lovely looking, when I looked at it I had a growing sense of dread, because I could just feel that it had a powerful and malevolent purpose. I followed Mason that night. He was going to deliver the canister to Jupiter. When they met, though, I realized Jupiter intended to place the curse on the canister then and there, which I was helpless to stop. Then, I summoned my courage, and attacked the pair of them, stealing the canister for myself. I Apparated far away, giving myself time to think. I could feel the curse inside the canister, and I knew if I opened it, every wizard in Britain would be cursed. I had very little time, for I was sure Mason had recognized me. So I made a potion out of salamander blood and Acromantula venom and poured it on and inside the canister. I felt the curse's rage, and then it died. Shortly afterward, Jupiter found me and we dueled over the canister he thought I still had."

Nick fell silent then, and the three men listened with bated breath.

"What happened then?" asked Ron.

"Well, I won!" said Nick, indignantly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be here talking to you, would I?"

Ron hesitated. "Well, you are a ghost."

Nick began to take his leave, but Harry stopped him. "Nick, wait. Salamander blood is used in Healing potions and Acromantula is used for destruction. What gave you the idea that they'd work to destroy the canister?"

"A curse by any other name was an ailment in that time," said Nick, "but the curse and the canister were one and the same, once they were set. I needed to heal the curse and destroy the canister. One healing ingredient. One ingredient of destruction."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Nick."

The three Aurors stood then, and made their way to Neville's office. "So this day of Jupiter, thing," said Ron. "You reckon the Jupiter refers to the Dark Wizard from the 1500s, not the Roman god?"

"Could be both," said Harry. "I'll bet you anything the Dark Wizard believed the same as the Requiters, so he called himself Jupiter."

"So what do we do now?" asked Neville.

"We've verified the threat," said Harry. "Now we need to get to Shacklebolt and warn him of the danger."

7:56:27... 7:56:28... 7:56:29... 7:56:30...

Vejovis muttered indinstinctly as he waved his wand in slow circles over the new canister. It reverberated with a haunting, somber sound and glowed sinisterly.

When it was done, Vejovis took it in his hands. He lay one finger on the hinge, dangerously close to opening it.

"Is it time?" asked one of his followers, a frail little man.

"No," said Vejovis, removing his thumb from the lid. "This canister is not powerful enough for all the magic in Britain. We will need to make more, but we can strike a huge blow in the name of Jupiter with this. Let the entire Wizarding community know that the Requiters are a force to be reckoned with."

Vejovis looked out over the few followers gathered at this particular safe house. "You there," he said, gesturing to a man with a unibrow. "I've selected you for this task. You will need to place this precisely in the center of the building. The curse will expand as it moves out, and the whole building will be stripped of all magic."

The man took the canister and held it reverently. "What building, sir?"

Vejovis thought it over a moment, then said, "Why don't you use it in St. Mungo's? That should make our point quite plain to the Ministry."

7:59:57... 7:59:58... 7:59:59... 8:00:00


	9. 8:00 AM to 9:00 AM

Recap: Harry, Ron, and Neville are working to catch the Requiters, an organization of Dark Wizards that are seeking to steal magic away from other wizards and return it to the Roman Gods. Hermione is scheduled to pitch her idea for a House Elf Liaison Office before the Ministry, but other people within the Ministry, even her own friends, are working against her.

8:00:00... 8:00:01... 8:00:02... 8:00:03

Hermione held her breath as she took the few long steps to the center of the Wizengamot chambers. She carried her presentation cards and the little wooden tripod with her. She hoped her hands weren't sweating as she set them up.

The witches and wizards of the Wizengamot weren't quite settled yet. They were having soft conversations as they prepared to listen to Hermione's presentation. God she hoped they listened.

Hermione cleared her throat loudly, and the last few people sided through the aisles to their seats and sat, giving her a look that conveyed only polite indifference.

"Good morning," she said. Her voice didn't crack. She gained a little more confidence. "Ladies and gentleman of the Wizengamot, today I'd like to bring your attention to the issue of our magical brethren, House Elves, and their lack of representation in our government."

She gestured to her first card, thinking to herself the entire time, _You can do this._

8:01:57... 8:01:58... 8:01:59... 8:02:00

Harry felt the familiar warm, spinning sensation as he kept his eyes wide open as he flooed back to the Ministry. When he reached his cubicle, he stepped aside and dusted the ashes from his cloak. Ron and Neville were close behind him.

"Robarbs?" asked Neville, taking a step toward the Head Auror's office.

"No time," said Harry. "We know how real the threat is now- we're taking it straight to the Minister."

They left the Auror Office, taking the lift up to the Head Offices. Harry began to feel apprehension- he hadn't spoken to the Minister much in the time since they both started their jobs.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, the former Auror, was named Minister of Magic after Voldemort's reign of terror ended. In that time, Shacklebolt had made extraordinary leaps and bounds towards revolutionizing the Ministry. The first thing he did after gaining office was appoint an entire new team to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The second thing was remove the Dementors from the Ministry's employ. Those decisive actions in and of themselves were enough to gain Harry's respect and loyalty for life, to say nothing of everything Shacklebolt did for the Order of the Phoenix.

As they were walking through the Head offices, they saw Percy walk out of his office and notice them.

"Ron!" he called, and he hurried over. The three Aurors kept walking and Percy matched their stride. "Have you talked to Hermione at all in the past hour or two?"

"No," Ron admitted. "We've all been really busy. Why- what's going on?"

"Quite a bit actually," said Percy. "I need to talk to her, but of course her presentation's already started, so it'll have to wait."

Percy turned then and walked the opposite direction. "Oh, yeah," said Harry. "The Wizengamot votes on the House-Elf Liaison Office today, don't they? I'd forgotten."

"I hadn't," said Ron. There was a definite note of concern in his voice.

Without slowing down, Harry suddenly realized why Ron had been so distracted earlier. Hermione's ideas weren't exactly going to be received with open minds in the wizarding community. Of course Ron was concerned for her. "She'll let us know how it went," Harry said bracingly. "We can all talk about it after this is all over."

Neville laughed.

"What?" asked Ron.

"It's actually not funny," said Neville. "Just ironically dark but, my Gran used to tell me about Voldemort's rise to power? The first war? She said everyone would always use the phrase 'when this is all over.'"

The three men were silent as they thought that over, still walking toward Shacklebolt's office. They didn't say another word until they reached the door and Harry knocked roughly and called through the door, "Minister, it's Harry Potter. I have something urgent to discuss."

The door magically opened and they stepped inside. Kingsley Shacklebolt was seated behind the desk. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of them, and Harry realized why. The three of them couldn't be running on more than three hours of sleep combined. They surely must look a sight.

"Gentleman," said Kingsley.

"Sir, we have reason to believe there is going to be a devastating attack on wizarding England today."

Kingsley looked at them expectantly. They remained standing as Harry spoke up.

"You may remember the Requiters, shortly after you took office?" prompted Harry. "Those that escaped resurfaced last night. They're responsible for the deaths of those Aurors, and they're planning something big. We believe they're recreating an Ancient curse that can drain the magic out of a witch or wizard's blood, making them a Muggle. This information comes to us from the Department of Mysteries and we verified it with research at the Hogwarts library and eye-witness accounts. In short, Minister, we need you to take executive power for a crisis situation."

Kingsley nodded almost at once. "Of course. Right away." He stood up and said, "Take me to the Auror Office. I should speak to Gawain and the other Aurors."

With that, the four men left the office and filed into the lift. Several people greeted Kingsley with a kind of depraved desire of attention- Harry supposed the Minister would get that often from Ministry employees seeking to further their careers. Kingsley was used to it and kept his pace with them.

The lift took them to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and they walked down the corridor to the Auror Offices.

The entire room fell into a quick hush when Kingsley entered, and Robarbs hurriedly approached them. "Minister," he said. "Welcome, but what are you-?"

"These three fine Aurors just informed me of the threat you're confronting," said Kingsley.

"Is that so?" asked Robarbs. "I told them that your involvement was not necessary, and I stand by my words."

"I trust these three men more than any other individuals in this Ministry," said Kingsley. "I am invoking executive powers for a crisis situation.

"Finding these Requiters is now top priority!" he called loudly, so that the entire Office heard. "I want every able-bodied Auror Officer working on this under the leadership of Robarbs and Potter and I want real time updates. Get it done."

With that, he left the room, leaving Robarbs looking strangely whipped. It seemed in the Minister's eyes, he and Harry Potter were equals.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him, "Not exactly."

8:10:29... 8:10:30... 8:10:31... 8:10:32

Half the office looked to Robarbs, while the other half looked to Harry. It occurred to Harry that Shacklebolt had just given him something of a promotion. Not wanting to cause any confusion, Harry looked right at Robarbs and said, "What's next?"

Robarbs blinked and opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. It appeared as if his mind was racing.

"Sir?" asked one of the wizards standing near them on the balls of his feet, fidgeting with a piece of parchment, and Harry realized it was Ferris Proud, the analyst who had been wrongly accused of treason that morning.

"Yes," Robarbs said. "Proud found something."

Proud handed Harry the piece of parchment then took a small step back as Harry read over it. It was a wanted poster for a wizard named Isaac Thames.

"Isaac Thames is a convicted mass-murderer and terrorist," said Proud. "He's killed as many as seven and possibly more. One account of one his attacks details the dark magic he used and there are several similarities between it and the curses that went off this morning."

That caught Harry's attention. "You think the Requiters learned the curse from Thames?"

"Possibly, but we can't be sure," said Proud. "He's been in Azkaban for ten years."

"Weasley," said Robarbs quickly. "Make sure."

Ron nodded. "I'll send a message to Azkaban to have him brought in right away."

"No time," said Robarbs. "Apparate right now and interrogate him there."

"Understood," said Ron. As he turned, he leaned in to Harry and muttered just loud enough to be heard, "Find out how Hermione's doing, if you can."

Harry nodded and watched as Ron walked a few paces before Disapparating.

"Potter," said Robarbs and Harry turned back. "Where do you think they're likely to hit?"

Harry thought it over for a second. "They're about to step up their game," he said. "They started out by hitting me and Neville last night, hitting us close to where we live. They wanted to throw us off. The curses that went off were just to get us to poke our heads out so they could pounce. Now they're going to be pulling out all the stops."

"You think they'll go for casualties next?" asked Neville.

"Yes," said Harry. "Somewhere public. Somewhere all of wizarding Britain will notice."

"Hogwarts?" Neville asked.

"Too well-protected, but we can't rule it out," said Harry. "They would hit a soft target though. Diagon Alley or maybe any town with a lot of wizards around or-"

"A hospital," said Robarbs.

"Could be," said Harry, after thinking it over.

"I think it's more than 'could be'," said Robarbs. "During the First Wizarding War, the Death Eaters would frequently blow up something in the Hospital or murder a hospitalized Muggle-born so that all the Healers would be dealing with the chaos in the hospital and wouldn't be able to help when the Death Eaters hit their actual targets."

Harry and Neville exchanged looks. "We'll check it out," said Harry.

The two men turned on their heals and Apparated away.

8:23:47... 8:23:48... 8:23:49... 8:23:50

They reappeared in the waiting room of St. Mungos. There was only a small handful of people seated reading _Witch Weekly _and other magazines. The line at the help desk spanned four people; one man with a very long nose that continued to grow, a girl with what appeared to be tree branches growing out of her ears, and one very large man whose entire body was covered in a purple welts.

Harry and Neville walked past the line, the eyes of most everyone in the waiting room on them. Harry could tell, they were recognized.

Harry immediately found a security wizard posted near the door. Harry moved toward him with Neville close behind. "Aurors Potter and Longbottom," Harry said, flashing his badge. "We have reason to believe that there may be an attack by a group known as the Requiters on the hospital. I want you to tell all of your men to be on high alert."

"Harry!" said Neville, grabbing at Harry's arm suddenly.

Harry followed Neville's gaze and saw a man with a unibrow staring at them. Harry recognized the look. It was premeditation.

"He was sent to abduct me last night," said Neville.

The man's eyes widened, and suddenly he was running down the corridor.

"Evacuate the hospital now!" Harry barked at the security wizard as he raced towards the man with the unibrow and drew his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted and the wizard's wand flew out of his hand. There were several cries of alarm from the Healers and patients in the hallway as they ducked to avoid any more spells.

The wizard grabbed a potion vial off of a medical cart and threw it at Harry. Harry dodged and heard the potion hiss when the glass shattered.

Harry shot a stunning spell, but the wizard dived over the medical cart and dodged. Harry uttered, "Carpe Retractum!" and a whip of orange light shot out of his wand and wrapped around the cart. Tugging on the wand, Harry sent the cart careening out of the way, leaving the wizard exposed.

Another stunning spell hit him square in the chest and he was blasted back ten feet. Harry started to approach when he heard a voice behind him say, "Avada Kedavra!"

Harry threw himself into a room off the hallway as he heard the rushing sound of the killing curse hitting the wall next to him. Harry peered around the edge, but was only exposed for a second before he heard the man begin to say the curse again. The two Requiters regrouped in the Hallway and Harry heard them Disapparate.

"Dammit!" Harry cursed as he ducked back out into the hallway. The two wizards were gone.

Healers and nurses were now running past him to get to the patients' bedrooms. They were evacuating the hospital.

Harry began to head back to the entrance when he saw Neville coming toward him with his wand out.

"There were two of them," Harry said. "And they got away."

"The Canister?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head, looking around him at the chaos of evacuating the hospital. "They didn't have it with them. They must have left it somewhere. Somewhere that the curse could reach throughout the whole hospital."

"The center?" asked Neville.

"Most likely," said Harry. "Third floor." The two pushed through the crowd of Healers and patients urgently but carefully. They burst through the doors of the stairwell just as crowds of sick witches and wizards were beginning to make their way to the ground floor to evacuate the building.

"Where are they all going to go?" asked Neville. "They can't go out in the Muggle world like this, can they?"

"I don't see any other option, but I'm sure security has a plan," said Harry.

They edged their way through the crowd up the first flight of stairs, but then Harry stopped at the first floor. "Get up there and try to find the Canister," he said. "I'll get what's needed to destroy it."

"Okay, hurry!" said Neville, as Harry pushed through the door.

The first floor hallway was completely deserted. Harry's footsteps echoed strangely as he hurried toward the Healer's station. There were bottles of anti-venom and potions all along the shelves. He found salamander blood quickly- it was a common Healing potion ingredient. The other ingredient though, Harry had less luck finding.

_Think, Harry, think,_ he chastised himself. _Where am I likely to find acromantula venom?_

Then a thought struck him. He reached for the pieces of parchment lying on the Healer's desk and after a few seconds of sorting through them, found a register for all the patients on the floor.

Scanning over the list hurriedly, Harry found what he was looking for. A patient named Doyle was admitted for an acromantula bite. The venom was extracted and left in his room. Harry folded the registration and put it in his robes and quickly jogged to Doyle's room. The venom was still in a ceramic bowl on the nightstand.

"Thank God," said Harry, taking the bowl with both hands. He walked back outside towards the staircase, turning around once he reached the door to push it open with his back.

Harry took the stairs one at a time, careful not to spill any of the venom on his hands. He reached the third floor and pulled the door open with one hand.

"Neville!" he called.

"Harry, over here!"

Harry followed Neville's voice to the Healer's station. There, Neville had placed the canister on the counter top. It was little more than a foot tall, perfectly cylindrical except for a spout coming off one side with a lid on a hinge covering it. "Are you sure that's it?" Harry asked.

Neville nodded. "Listen." They both leaned in and could hear a faint, ominous humming coming from inside the device.

"We might not have much time," said Harry, setting the bowl down. He reached into his cloak for the salamander blood. Harry pulled the stopper with a small "pop" that was amplified by the still silence of the room, and dumped the blood into the venom. The red liquid swirled into the greenish-amber of the venom, giving Harry the impression of a bowl of mint ice cream with a swirl of strawberry. Harry waved his wand and the two ingredients mixed into each other.

"Harry, it's getting louder," said Neville.

Harry heard it too. The humming was getting louder by the second. It was already as loud as a heavy engine. Harry took the bowl and poured it into the spout. The humming reached the volume of a screaming child and Harry and Neville both covered their ears. Then, suddenly it stopped.

The canister smoked slightly out of its spout, but otherwise was still.

Harry raised his wand and cast a nonverbal Lumos and the end lit. "Magic still works," he said, flicking the light off. "We stopped it."

8:34:50... 8:34:51... 8:34:52... 8:34:53

Ron sat comfortably at a table in a damp, stonewall room. Ron reflected on how at ease he was in the Interrogation Room and thought of how on-edge he'd be if he was interrogating at Azkaban two years earlier as opposed to now.

The Dementors had been dismissed from Ministry employ and Azkaban was now guarded by witches and wizards from the DMLE. The dreadful depression the Dementors cast over Azkaban was long gone. It was almost as if the new guards had the opposite affect on the prison, things were so different. There was some discussion in the Ministry that the prisoners were so happier with the improvement that Azkaban could hardly be considered punishment any longer.

As Ron waited for the guards to bring in Thames, he wondered about Hermione. Her presentation could possibly be over already. He wondered how it went and wished he was back at the Ministry so he could see her again.

The door opened, interrupting Ron's thoughts, and two guards dragged in Isaac Thames with a magical bond on his hands. They sat him in the chair, nodded politely to Ron and left the room.

"Ay, I knows you, dunnit?" said Tomas. "You sumfink famous, innit?"

Ron ignored him. "All you need to know is I'm from the Auror Office. You should know that if you cooperate and can help me, it can only help your chances of an early release."

Tomas nodded hurriedly. "Ah will, ah will," he said. "Whatchu wanna know, then?"

"You've admitting to the use of illegal and unapproved spells, correct?" asked Ron, not breaking eye contact.

"Aye, I owned up to that 'un years ago at m' trial, now din't I?" Thames was leaning over the table with an excited exhilaration.

"I wanted to make sure your story hasn't changed," said Ron. He reached into the pocket of his cloak and withdrew a picture. The picture showed a house imploding in on itself in a swirl of black smoke. "Do you remember this curse?"

Thames watched the house implode in the photograph again. "Aye," he said. A thin line of sweat appeared on his brow.

Ron noticed. "Nervous?" he asked.

Thames looked back up at Ron suddenly. "I, er... I'm sorry, is all. Din't find out 'til later that that 'ouse wasn't empty, now din't I? Couple of Muggle kids, weren't it?"

"Yes," said Ron. "Bryce Landers and High Rivers. They were both sixteen years old." Ron decided not to mention that the two boys were recovered from the wreckage along with their heroin and ecstasy. "Last night we detected several curses much like this one being set off at multiple Muggle locations."

Thames's eyes widened in fear. He started to see where this was going.

"I need to know if you told anyone how to replicate this curse," said Ron.

Thames was shock still and quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.

"Their name?"

"A mate o' mine, 'e was," said Thames. "Before this place. He 'n I met in Knockturn Alley."

Ron nodded, copying Thames's confession onto a piece of parchment. "His name."

"Tomas Eazeem," Thames said. "He's a dark wizard. He's killed people, he has."

"Has he ever been to Azkaban?"

"Nah, he's from abroad," said Thames. "Somewhere in Africa, I fink. Last I 'eard, 'e was somewhere around the Mediterranean. Spain or Italy or..."

"Greece?" asked Ron.

Thames nodded. "Maybe."

Ron folded the parchment and put it and the photo back in his cloak. "Thank you," he said, scooting his chair back and rising. "I'll put in a good word with the Head of the Department, shall I?"

"Oh, thank you, sir!" said Thames, and he stood up and watched Ron leave the room.

8:43:06... 8:43:07... 8:43:08... 8:43:09

"This is not an attack on wizard conservatism," Hermione was saying, as her last poster was on the stand. "My cause is not a vendetta against traditional magical society. I simply need to show you that society is changing- progressing. There is a present and real need for this Liaison Office so that our magical brethren are not stranded in this small world without any hope for an opportunity."

Hermione concluded her presentation with a smile. That went really well, she thought.

The chairman, a big man from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, nodded his approval and said, "Thank you, Ms. Granger. You're excused. We will call you once we've made a decision. The rest of you, we're going to take a short break. We'll reconvene to discuss the matter at 9:30." The chairman stamped his gavel, and the courtroom filled with a dull roar as Hermione packed her things.

Once outside the courtroom, walking back to the Atrium, Hermione began to immediately think how she could have done better. She'd made an effort to not sound like she was attacking wizard-kind for their treatment of House Elves in the past, but stating the facts and statistics of the history would certainly sound that way. But it was too important to ignore it.

Why didn't she ask liberated House Elves to come testify with her? The Wizengamot may have seen her side better if they had testimony from one. Or more!

Too late now, she decided. All she could do was wait.

8:46:21... 8:46:22... 8:46:23... 8:46:24

Ron Apparated into an alleyway in Hampshire. He'd been at the Auror Office only moments before, getting information on Tomas Eazeem. He discovered that Eezeem was in the country, living in a small Muggle apartment in Hampshire. Now, Ron was here, hoping to bring him in for questioning.

The apartment was situated between two taller buildings. It was an ugly structure, with chipped red bricks lining the walls and thick ivy covering the windowsills. Eazeem lived at the very top. Ron entered the building and walked past the leasing office, not wanting to give Eazeem a heads up. Ron took the stairs, not completely trusting the elevator. Once he reached the fourth floor, he drew his wand and walked down the hallway.

Eazeem's apartment, 4C, was at the end of the hall. Ron approached it with his wand at the ready. As he approached though, he realized the door had already been kicked open. Suddenly, he heard a harsh cry, "Avada Kedavra!" and saw a flash of green light. Instinctively, he retreated back away from the door, but the curse wasn't meant for him. Ron rushed in and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!" at the first moving object he saw.

The figure fell to the ground with a loud thud and Ron held him at wand point. Ron moved to see him better. The figure was a large wizard with no neck, dark hair and a beard. There was another figure slumped on the couch, a thin black man. Ron quickly ran through the rest of the apartment just to make sure it was empty. There was no one, so Ron returned to the two men slumped in the common area.

There was a wanted poster in a language Ron didn't recognize lying on the table. Ron picked it up to see a picture of the thin black man. He was Tomas Eazeem. Ron stepped forward to check on Eazeem. Ron stepped awkwardly around Eazeem's legs and bent over him to check for a pulse. There was none. Eazeem was dead.

Sighing, Ron moved his attention to the man paralyzed on the ground. "Alright, mate," he said. "Who the hell are you?"

8:48:51... 8:48:52... 8:48:53... 8:48:54

The fireplace at Harry's desk blazed to life with green flames and Harry stepped out into his cubicle. A few seconds later, Neville followed. Robarbs was waiting for them. "You just missed Weasley," he said. "Thames admitted to selling the curse to an African dark wizard named Tomas Eazeem. Ron's investigating now. What took you boys so long?"

"We got to the hospital and the Requiters were there," said Harry. "They planted the device and escaped. We ordered an evacuation and destroyed the curse." Neville held up the canister.

"This is it?" asked Robarbs, taking it from Neville.

"Yes, sir," said Harry. "After that, we helped bring the patients back into the building and wiped memories of Muggle's who'd seen them in the streets. It took longer than we thought."

"St. Mungos needs a less obtrusive evacuation procedure," said Robarbs.

"We'll get an analyst on it later," said Harry.

"Good," said Robarbs. "How much do we know about this curse?" he asked, gesturing with the canister.

"Not a lot, I'm afraid," said Neville. "We're not sure what it's properties or capabilities are. We can't get any more information off of it after we destroyed it."

Harry and Neville watched Robarbs for a moment. "I guess we have no choice," said Robarbs.

"Sir?" asked Harry.

"We need to know how to combat this magic, and these canisters are the only clues. We need to study one that has released the curse properly."

Harry was silent.

Neville hesitated. "Sir... are you suggesting?"

"We wait," said Robarbs, with finality. "We wait for another attack. Then we bring the canister back here and find out how to stop it."

8:57:07... 8:57:08... 8:57:09... 8:57:10

The red phone booth descended into the atrium and opened to admit a short, curly haired wizard with glasses. He was carrying a giant box in both arms, piled high with papers. As he walked past the fountain of magical brethren, he lost his balance, sending a stack of papers to the floor, and he cursed. A passing witch paused to help him. He smiled and gave her thanks.

As he approached the security wizard, the security wizard set down his paper, looking bemused. "Your wand?"

"You just did that!" said the short wizard.

Befuddled, the security wizard watched as the wizard tottered away. "Sorry," he said, too late for the short wizard to hear him.

The short wizard approached the lift and asked to be taken to the fourth floor. Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Due to the draft for the 2000-2001 Quidditch season, most of the Department was empty, busy at the English National Stadium. The short wizard removed his glasses and tossed them along with all the papers from his box into the garbage chute. He took his wand, which he'd slipped past security due to the Confundus Charm he'd muttered when he'd pretended to stumble in the atrium.

Reaching back into the box, he withdrew the canister that the papers had concealed and set it on a desk in the center of the room.

8:59:57... 8:59:58... 8:59:59... 9:00:00

A/N: Over a third of the way done and I've only been working on this one for a year... Wow, this is sad. Okay, guys, sophomore year of college is over and supposedly this is the worst, so I'm going to be updating more. I hope. I've been told junior year is just as bad. We'll see. I'll try to update over the summer as much as I can, but I'll be taking summer classes. I don't want to ditch this story, but I've got others that I want to work on too.

Sax Warrior


	10. 9:00 AM to 10:00 AM

Recap: The Auror Office is trying to prevent the Requiters from using an ancient curse to steal magic away from people. Harry and Neville stopped the curse at St. Mungo's, but Robarbs tells them to allow the curse to happen so they can get more information about it. Ron found out that a dark wizard named Tomas Eazeem may be working with the Requiters. When Ron went to arrest him though, he witnessed his murder.

9:00:00... 9:00:01... 9:00:02... 9:00:03...

Eazeem's murderer was still paralyzed on the floor, watching Ron work. Ron conjured a body bag and put the body of Eazeem in it. A simple spell sealed the bag and Ron laid it on the couch.

Ron turned to face the paralyzed man on the floor now. The man could only watch as Ron lifted him up and placed him in a seated position on an armchair. Ron waved his wand, the door shut and locked, the curtains covered the windows, and the lights went out. Ron waited as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

He picked up the man's wand and placed his own wand on it's tip. "Prior incantato," he uttered.

The murderer's wand let out a flash of green, the ghost of the killing curse.

Ron looked up and locked eyes with the paralyzed man. "That's more than enough evidence to land you a cell in Azkaban," Ron said. "On the other hand, I can throw in a good word with the Head of the Department if you help me out now." He pointed both wands at the man and uttered the counter-curse releasing him. "Let's start with your name," said Ron, keeping both wands pointed at the man's heart.

The man hesitated briefly, then said, "Morris Gregor."

"Are you working with the Requiters, Morris?" Ron asked.

Gregor nodded.

"Do you know where Vejovis is?"

Gregor shook his head.

Ron wasn't sure if he was lying. "Why don't you know?"

"He's been changing locations all night. He never stays one place longer than a few minutes," said Gregor. "I haven't seen him since he gave me instructions to come kill Eazeem. That was just after your lot stopped the curse at St. Mungos."

Ron had no idea what Gregor meant. From what it sounded like, the Requiters were going to curse the hospital, but Robarbs and Harry had stopped it.

"What did he tell you?" Ron asked.

"He told me that this bloke, Eazeem, was a loose end, and needed to be killed. So then we both left and I'm guessing he left shortly after. Like I said, he doesn't stay in one place but a few minutes. Says it's the only way he can stay one step ahead of the Aurors."

Gregor was silent for a moment. Ron gave him a hard look, hoping to intimidate him more. The clown was giving him everything. "I'm sorry," Ron began, his heart racing. "You said you _both_ left?"

Gregor only then caught his slip up. "Who left with you, Morris?" Ron asked.

The man was silent.

"Come on, now," said Ron. "You were doing so well only a minute ago. Don't tell me I've got to get a cell in Azkaban ready."

"No, no," said Gregor. "I'll talk."

"Good," said Ron. "Who else did Vejovis send out?"

"After the curse at the hospital failed, Vejovis sent someone to place a curse on the Ministry."

Ron's eyes widened. Thinking fast, he cast the full body-bind curse on Gregor again. Then he cast a nonverbal Patronus and the familiar terrier soared away.

9:10:46... 9:10:47... 9:10:48... 9:10:49...

The Patronus flew over Muggle London in an instant and sailed right through the underground to the Ministry. It landed in the Auror Office, grabbing everyone's attention, including Harry, Neville, and Robarbs.

The terrier opened its mouth and Ron's voice came out. "Tomas Eazeem is dead. His killer just told me the Requiters are going to curse the Ministry. He's likely there now!"

"Neville, with me!" said Harry, and they raced to the lift. The lift ambled along at its usual pace, entirely too slow for Harry's purposes.

"Come on!" he urged, but the lift was unresponsive. They made it to the Atrium and Harry shoved the door out of his way and raced to the security desk, Neville hot on his heels.

"Charlie!" Harry said, "I want a list of everyone who's come through in the past hour." Charlie stared at him blankly. _Confunded, _Harry thought. He pointed his wand at the security wizard, ignored a shout from Neville and uttered the counter-curse.

"I was Confunded!" Charlie said.

"I know," said Harry.

"It was him!" Charlie pointed.

Harry turned. A man had just exited the lift. He locked eyes with Harry. Then he ran.

"Don't lose him in the crowd!" Harry yelled to Neville, and he peeled away, trying to intercept him. The culprit was trying to make it to the Floo exits. Harry raised his wand and fired a loud bang in the air, splitting the crowd. He locked eyes on the culprit and lowered his wand in a sweeping motion. "Stupefy" he shouted, and the stunning spell caught the man on the side, catching him and throwing him against the wall. Neville caught up to him and pointed his wand at him. Harry raced forward and flipped the Requiter over and aimed the wand directly into his face. "Where's the device?" Harry demanded. The Requiter spat in his face.

"Talk or this curse'll take you down, too!" Harry shouted.

"Let it," said the Requiter. "It's too late now, anyway."

Before Harry could speak, there was a powerful gust of wind, like a hurricane blowing over. The lights dimmed, then went ou. Harry's wand suddenly felt very cold in his hands. The lights went out completely and the wind died down. The air was more still than Harry had ever felt it. Harry looked around. All eyes in the Atrium were on him. His wand was still pointed at the Requiter. Dreading what was about to happen, Harry whispered "Lumos."

His wand did nothing.

A few people around him also had their wands out and were attempting to light them. A dull roar began to build up in the Atrium, and Harry detected panic in some of their voices. "Neville, stay on him," he said.

Neville hoisted the Requiter up, and held his arms behind his back, but the man was making no effort to escape.

Harry jogged the short distance to the fountain of magical brethren, though the water had stopped flowing, and stood on the ledge, elevated above the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he shouted out. "I'm an Auror! I'm Harry Potter!" The sound of his name seemed to relieve some of the Ministry employees. "I'm going to ask you not to panic! Yes, your wands are not working. The Ministry of Magic is under a spell. We are working on reversing it."

"Harry!" came a voice, and Harry turned to see Hermione coming toward him.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, and he jumped off the ledge and rushed to her. The rest of the crowd was now talking amongst themselves.

"What's going on?" Hermione demanded, once they were close.

"The Requiters," said Harry. "Do you remember Ron and me telling you about them?"

"Yes, I remember," said Hermione. "That was so long ago... have they done it, then? They found a way to..." she stopped herself when she realized a few people close to them were listening in. Harry grabbed her arm and led her away. "To suck magic out of a place?"

"And everyone and everything in it," said Harry.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione.

"First we need to find the device," said Harry.

Hermione nodded. "It'd have to be in the very center of the structure, to maintain a consistent magical radius."

"That's what I figured as well," said Harry. He was distracted when he saw a couple of wizards arguing with Neville. "Hang on," he said, and he started walking in that direction.

"Oy!" he shouted. The two wizards saw him coming and backed off.

"These two gentlemen figure our friend had something to do with this," said Neville, gesturing at the Requiter, who now had his hands tied behind his back with Neville's belt.

Harry and Hermione eyed the two wizards. "What are you going to do, kill him?" Harry asked. "We need him to answer for his crimes. This is Auror business. Stay out of it."

The two wizards left, muttering under their breath. Harry turned back to Neville. "Keep him away from the crowd. Out of sight."

"Right," Neville agreed. "What are you going to do?"

"The device should be on the floor of the fifth floor," said Hermione. "The mid-point of the entire Ministry. Five levels above, including the fifth, and five levels below, including the Atrium."

"Excellent," said Harry, and he turned to walk back to the lifts.

"Harry, the lifts operate with magic!" Hermione reminded him. Harry stopped and looked around the walls.

"Aren't there any stairs?"

"No," said Hermione.

"Lifts it is," said Harry. Hermione followed him. "Harry," she said. "You realize this entire building is underground with no way in or out without magic, right?"

"Yes, I realize that, Hermione," Harry said through his annoyance.

"That means there's only so much oxygen," said Hermione. "If we don't get our magic back soon, everyone in this building could suffocate."

Harry nodded. "I know. I'm working on it."

They came to the lifts and Harry forced the grate open and peered up the shaft. The lift appeared to be a dozen or so feet above him. "Right now, we need to avoid a panic," Harry said. "Keep everyone in the atrium calm."

Harry grabbed hold of the cable supporting the lift and stepped out, swinging above the emptiness. Reaching hand over hand, he pulled himself up. Then he heard something below him. Hermione was on the cable too. "What are you doing?" Harry asked.

"Neville can keep the people in the atrium calm," said Hermione. "You need my help."

"Hermione, I-"

"No time to argue!" Hermione interrupted. "Climb now!"

Wishing she was above him, Harry continued to pull himself up. "Once we have the device," he said. "We keep climbing to the second level."

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," said Harry. The climbing came easier now, and he thanked his years playing Quidditch for his athleticism, but he worried about Hermione. They climbed past the grate to the seventh level and Harry thought to himself, _Only five to go._

"What - can the Auror Office - do?" asked Hermione, her heavy breathing impeding her speech.

"Ron's outside the building," said Harry "He can - ouch!"

Not paying attention, Harry had banged his head on the lift.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"We reached the lift," said Harry. Squeezing the cable tightly with his legs, Harry grabbed at the emergency exit on the bottom of the lift. He forced it upwards, opening into darkness. Apparently, everything in the Ministry with lit with magic.

"Who's there? Are you Magical Maintenance?" came a voice.

"No," said Harry. "But help me up!"

Someone grabbed his arms and helped pull him through the hole in the lift. Through the darkness, Harry could see the lift was occupied only by two individuals, a young wizard with combed blond hair and glasses and an older wizard who had a crate full of broomsticks.

Harry turned back around and pulled Hermione through the exit too, then kicked the door shut.

"Magical Maintenance is working on it," Harry assured the two men. "The important thing now is to remain calm. He reached up and unlocked the emergency exit above them, and pulled himself through it. Once again, he turned and helped Hermione through it as well.

As the door shut, Harry thought he heard one of the men say, "Was that Harry Potter?"

"Hermione, you go first," Harry said. "I'd rather be below you so I can catch you if you fall."

"Okay," said Hermione. She grabbed onto the cable and began pulling herself up. Harry followed directly behind her. Hermione was actually climbing surprisingly well. She always was more resourceful than Harry gave her credit.

They climbed past the next level and Harry thought _Sixth level_.

"Don't lose count," Harry said. "Next up'll be the floor the device is on."

"I can see - the landing, - I think," called Hermione. She was breathing heavily now, exerting herself.

After another moment, Harry felt his head hit something again. This time, it was Hermione's shoe. "How do I get to the landing without falling?" Hermione asked.

Harry looked up. He could see the landing now. The grate was shut. "Climb higher. Let me get to it," Harry said.

"Harry, my arms are too tired," said Hermione.

"Don't stop now!" said Harry. "Look, we've already climbed nearly thirty feet. Just a few more!"

Hermione heaved and heaved. Her body inched upwards. Harry was just behind her, and he waited until his eyes were level with the grate. "Okay, that's enough!" he said.

He took a deep breath, and then, he jumped for it. He grabbed at the grate and caught it. He reached and pulled himself up. Standing on the ledge, he forced it open. Hermione swung her legs out and Harry helped pull her over. "Regain your strength," said Harry. "We're not done." Hermione rubbed her arms at the shoulders.

Harry turned to see a crowd watching him. The entire staff of the Department of International Magical Cooperation was watching them.

"Hello," said Harry, semi-awkwardly. "I need everyone to remain calm."

"You're Harry Potter!" said one wizard, excitedly. "You can save us, right?"

"Er, I'm working on it," said Harry.

"That thing!" the wizard said, pointing behind him. Harry walked over to him and looked where he was pointing. A canister, just like the one he'd recovered at St. Mungo's was there, humming evilly. Apparently, everyone in the office realized it had something to do with their situation and hadn't wanted to go anywhere near it.

All the magic in the building was stored in that container. And it was Harry's job to get it back.

Harry took the canister, surprisingly cold, in his hands. "I need to take this up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"Are you climbing the lift cables?" asked one man, with a Swedish accent.

"Er... yes."

"Here, take these," he said. He dug around in his desk, and withdrew something that appeared to be made of rope. "Mountain climbing harnesses," he said. "I use them back home."

"Excellent!" said Harry. "Really, thanks. This is... perfect." He rushed back to the lift. "Hermione, strap these on," he told her.

Hermione, still breathless from the climb, obeyed. Harry pulled his on, too. "Clip it on to the cable," he told her, and she did. She grabbed hold of the cable and began climbing again. As soon as she was out of the way, Harry clipped his on too and followed her. They were both considerably faster with the harness.

"Just like solving our mysteries at Hogwarts, right Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Don't - talk to me - right now," said Hermione.

Within moments, they'd passed the fourth and third floors. They reached the second floor and again, Harry pulled the grate open.

"Wait," said Harry, as Hermione started to walk towards the Auror Office. "Not there. We're going to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."

9:20:43... 9:20:44... 9:20:45... 9:20:46...

Ron paced the floor. It had been ten minutes since he sent his warning, and he hadn't heard back from anyone.

Morris Gregor was watching him fearfully. Ron had told him if the curse went off, then he could kiss any chance of avoiding Azkaban goodbye. As time passed, Gregor was getting more and more anxious.

The more Ron thought about it, the more he began to realize they hadn't stopped it in time. Harry and the Auror Office weren't contacting him because they couldn't. And he couldn't apparate there if there wasn't any magic in the building to support his apparition. He was left stranded in Eazeem's apartment with a dead body and a suspect. Ron felt very lost. He just wished there was some way for Harry to contact him.

_RING RING_

Ron froze.

_RING RING_

The telephone? Ron stepped toward it as it rang again. The caller ID read out "Unknown Caller". Ron picked up the receiver and reminded himself not to yell. "Hello?"

"Ron, thank God you're still there!"

"Harry!" said Ron. "What's happened!"

"We didn't stop the curse in time," said Harry. "The entire Ministry's without magic. Including me."

Ron gulped. "What's that mean?"

"We're using the resources in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office," said Harry. "It's the only place with a phone for one thing. The apartment's phone number was on the same file you pulled the address from."

"What else?" asked Ron.

"The Minister's here, too" said Harry.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice came out of the phone now. "Mr. Weasley. Can you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," said Ron.

"There is a concealed exit in my office," he said. "I'm sending Hermione Granger out with the Requiters' device. I want you and her to work out of the suspect in your custody how to release the magic. She has a plan. She'll tell you."

"What about Harry? Or Neville?" asked Ron.

"I need Harry to remain here to keep the Ministry staff calm. By Miss Granger's estimate, we have roughly two hours from the time the curse went off before it gets difficult to breathe."

"With respect, sir," said Ron, "couldn't we use the escape in your office to evacuate the entire Ministry?"

"I wish I could," said Shacklebolt. "But even if every staffer could climb the cables of the lifts with enough proficiency to reach the first level, the exit is designed to seal itself magically after ten seconds."

"But if it's magical-"

"It was out of range of the device, thank God," said Shacklebolt. "But once it seals itself, it really will be only a short while before we are in danger."

Ron gulped. "Okay. We'll work fast."

"We're counting on you, Officer Weasley," said Shacklebolt. "Good luck."

9:25:06... 9:25:07... 9:25:08... 9:25:09...

Harry and Hermione walked back toward the lifts. Hermione clipped her harness back onto the cable. "You remember Shacklebolt's instructions?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"And you've got the address for the apartment?"

"Yes."

"Miss Granger, wait," said Shacklebolt, and they both turned to face him. "There's no way to get the entire staff of the Ministry up these shafts and out that exit in time," Shacklebolt said. "Take my support staff, though. Tell them they have my approval to escape."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sir." Harry and Shacklebolt watched as Hermione quickly climbed the last level to the Support Staff offices.

"Shall we, Minister?" asked Harry, clipping the harness onto the cable. Shacklebolt stepped off the ledge and held on tight to Harry's midriff.

"Just go slowly," the Minister said. Harry loosened his grip and slid down faster than he meant to. Shacklebolt let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Sorry, Minister," said Harry.

"That's alright," said Shacklebolt. Harry slid as slowly as he could down to the third level. Shacklebolt reached out, shoved the grate open, and stepped onto the ledge.

Harry followed, but Shacklebolt was already heading toward the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes Offices. As Harry raced to catch up, he saw a large crowd gathered around the center offices.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Shacklebolt called out. "There has been an attack on the Ministry. I need everyone to remain calm and be assured that we are working on a solution. If there is any cause for alarm, we will notify you."

Harry watched the Minister finish his lie and followed him as he left. "Sir, that was a lie," he said.

"Yes," said Shacklebolt. "I'm a politician. To keep the peace in this building, we have to lie."

Harry disagreed, but kept it to himself. He wasn't Minister for Magic. Shacklebolt was.

They travelled down to the fourth level and repeated the process. Again, Harry stood by in silence as the Minister led his employees to believe that everything would be okay. Harry understood his reasons. The last thing they needed was a panic. But the Minister was making promises Harry didn't believe could be kept. As they returned to the lift shafts to go down to the lower levels, Harry wondered if the effect by the canister was even reversible. And if it wasn't, what did that mean for them? Would there be any way for the people in the lower levels to climb up the lift shafts to the top level and get out through the Minister's secret exit, assuming it was reusable, or would most of them suffocate to death?

I could escape, Harry thought. He'd climbed from the eighth level to the second and he could do it again. But if he did, what then? Would he be forced to live as a Muggle for the rest of his life, without any kind of identity in the Muggle world? And who would put a stop to the Requiters from stealing magic from the rest of Magical Britain?

As Harry watched the Minister assure the people again and again that everything would be okay, Harry began to doubt it very much.

9:39:38... 9:39:39... 9:39:40... 9:39:41...

The emergency exit out of the Minister's office was a tunnel that led to the London underground. Hermione and the senior staff, some of whom Hermione recognized from the Wizengamot presentation, opened a door that led into the tunnel, disguised as a store closet.

The other ministry officials followed Hermione to the underground platform, standing out from the Muggles in their robes of purple and green.

Hermione ignored them all and made for the up escalator- taking the steps two at a time. Her bag thudded against her side, and she felt the strange heat emanating from the device.

Hermione emerged into the morning light of downtown London. Ron couldn't be far. She hailed a taxi and gave him the address.

Once the cab was moving, Hermione opened her bag and inspected the canister. It was cylindrical and metallic, an imposing looking device. Somehow, the canister contained all the magic powering the Ministry of Magic, and she and Ron had to figure out how to return it.

9:43:08... 9:43:09... 9:43:10... 9:43:11...

The Auror, Ron, peeked through the blinds again. Morris couldn't see, but guessing by Ron's impatience, there was no sign of anyone from the Ministry yet. Not that it'd do them any good. The curse would've gone off long ago- everyone in the Ministry would be without power.

Althought he was restrained to the chair, Morris Gregor felt empowered. He was a part of something that was responsible for bringing the Ministry of Magic to its knees. Wizards and witches relied too heavily upon magic. Morris doubted they could even leave the building without magic.

The Auror once again trained his wand on Morris.

"When the device gets here, I'm going to reverse it, so the magic returns to the people. While we wait, why don't you tell me how?"

Now was the moment Morris had been waiting for. He would lie, and then they would be in trouble. Morris supposed he could simply release the magic, but he didn't know how to ensure it wouldn't return to the Ministry. No, he needed to use the canister to escape.

"A simple jinx will work," he said. "_Nullis Expelcis_," he said. "That will release the magic and it will return to its point of origin.

Ron nodded. "Thanks, Morris. With all the help you've given me, I'm pretty sure you've dodged a cell in Azkaban." There was the sound of a car pulling up, and Ron once again peered through the window.

"It's her," he said, and he left.

Morris waited a couple of moments- the Auror would be letting his companion in now. He thought through his strategy again. It would work.

The Auror returned with a woman with a bulging bag. The canister was in Ron's hands. "Alright," Ron said. "Here we go. _Nullis Expelcis!"_ He tapped the canister with his wand.

Then, several things happened at once. The spell rebounded, just as Morris anticipated. Ron was blown off his feet and he dropped his wand. Free from his magical bind, Morris leapt forward and seized it. He pointed it at Ron, lying on the floor. "The other wand, please."

Scowling, Ron reached into his back pocket and pulled out Morris's wand. Morris shot ropes and bound Ron and Hermione together. Then he approached the fireplace. He cast floo powder into it, and the bright green flames burst forward.

"Number 7, Main Street. Westchester."

In a flash of green flame, Morris and his prisoners were gone.

9:59:57... 9:59:58... 9:59:59... 10:00:00

A/N: I'm hoping both Harry and Hermione, in all their crime fighting, are fit enough to climb the cable. It's supposed to be easy to grasp since it's not lubed, as it runs by magic. In other aspects, I admit I may be stretching the confines of "magical reality" with everything happening with the curse.

Reviews are appreciated, whether they're kind or otherwise!


	11. 10:00 AM to 11:00 AM

Recap: The Requiters set off the curse inside the Ministry, leaving it completely without power. Ron was following a lead outside the Auror Office, so he wasn't at the Ministry when the Requiters cursed it. Harry sent Hermione out of the Ministry to meet up with Ron and work out of a captive, Morris Gregor, how to release the magic. Harry and Kingsley stayed at the Ministry, trying to keep the workers calm, despite them running out of oxygen after the Ministry sealed itself. Gregor deceived them and took both of them captive.

10:00:00... 10:00:01... 10:00:02... 10:00:03...

The fireplace surged to life with green flames in a house in Westchester. Ron and Hermione fell out of it, on their hands and knees. Morris Gregor followed behind them, with his and Ron's wand pointed at the pair of them.

The room was crowded with people, and they quickly surrounded Ron and Hermione. A pair of them seized them by the arms and held them in a kneeling position.

One man stepped forward. He had a long pepper-gray beard and dark eyes. Zeus Vejovis.

"Do you have it?" Vejovis asked, looking away from Ron and Hermione.

"Here," said Morris, handing the device over.

Vejovis took it in his hands and observed it. "Perfect containment," said Vejovis. "This is all the magic powering the Ministry?"

"The girl came from the Ministry," said Morris, offering Hermione's wand. Vejovis took it and felt how cold and dead it was.

"You saved me a considerable amount of time," said Vejovis. "I really ought to thank you. I was afraid I'd have to wait for the Ministry to tear itself apart in it's panic before I could reclaim this."

He reached into the folds of his robes and withdrew a small leather-bound book. "Recognize the author?" Vejovis asked, flashing them the cover. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington? He wrote all his adventures down before he died, you know. Explained in detail the magic. The book was never published- he is a dreadful writer."

Vejovis flipped to a specific page and held it up for them to see. "It explains exactly how to destroy the magic altogether, so that it can never return to its origin."

"So what happens next?" asked Ron. "You take away all the magic in the world and keep yours? You become the only wizard?"

Vejovis slapped him across the face. "I would never!" the crazy old man snarled. "It is my intention to rid the world of magic entirely!"

10:06:16... 10:06:17... 10:06:18... 10:06:19...

Ron and Hermione hadn't checked in.

Harry kept glancing at his watch every few minutes. He'd resigned himself to waiting by the telephone in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Hermione had left nearly half an hour ago. Even with London traffic, that meant she had to be at Eazeem's apartment with Ron and Gregor. Hermione and Ron had worked out a plan into deceiving Morris, but had it worked?

There was the chance Morris had taken advantage of them and gotten away. Or they'd been taken.

Harry shook his head of such thoughts. Ron was a capable Auror and Hermione could handle herself. He had problems here he had to worry about.

"Harry," came a voice, and Harry turned around to see Neville.

"You'd better come quick," said Neville.

Harry followed Neville down the lifts- still using the climbing gear to the best of their ability- to the atrium.

Before they'd reached it, Harry could hear the raised voices. They arrived at the atrium to find it in an uproar. Kingsley was standing on the Fountain of Magical Brethren and trying to speak loud enough to be heard.

Harry pushed through the crowd and leaded up beside him. Sticking two fingers into his mouth, he let out a loud whistle, prompting the people standing close to him to cover their ears.

"Hey!" Harry shouted over the few remaining voices. "Show some respect for your Minister!"

The crowd settled into a guilty silence.

"Thank you," said the booming voice of Shacklebolt. "Now. I want to ask you all once again to remain calm. We are working on returning power to the Ministry."

"I'm with Magical Maintenance!" someone in the crowd shouted. "And we haven't been told nothin' about what's happening! We should be the ones to fix it!"

"Is this some kind of attack?" called someone, who looked suspiciously like a reporter for the Daily Prophet.

"How can we get out of here without magic?" asked someone else.

"Someone said we'll suffocate! Is that true?"

The crowd's voice surged into a panic again and Harry whistled once more. "If it's true we are running out of air," said Shacklebolt, "then the important thing is to save your beath and stop shouting."

Some of the wizard saw some sense in what Shacklebolt was saying, although none of them understood the science of oxygen and respiration.

"I will ask once more," said Shacklebolt, "that everyone remain calm. We are working to return power to the Ministry."

Harry realized his heart had been pounding the whole while. Shacklebolt clearly understood crowd control, but how much longer could they keep it up?

10:16:06... 10:16:07... 10:16:08... 10:16:09...

Ron and Hermione watched as Vejovis spoke an incantation into the device.

"How is he not using his wand?" Ron whispered.

Hermione had noticed this too. Vejovis was holding the cylinder with both hands, and his focus was entirely on it. She didn't see his wand.

"I'm not sure," she said, risking a glance at one of the Requiters. He was holding the Sir Nicholas's spellbook. "I bet the answer's in there."

"On my mark, grab it," said Ron. "It can't be long now."

Vejovis stopped speaking then. The cylinder remained motionless.

Some of the other Requiters started to murmur amongst themselves. "Did it work?" one asked. Ron surreptitiously stuck two fingers down the backside of his boot. He felt something warm and wooden in his boot and muttered an incantation. The ropes binding his and Hermione's hands loosened soundlessly.

Vejovis didn't answer the Requiter. He could only stare at the cylinder, clueless.

"I don't understand..." he said.

"Does this help?" asked Ron.

Vejovis looked around to see Ron pointing his wand at him. "Now!" Ron said.

Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and lunged for the spellbook. As soon as it was in her grasp, Ron turned on his heal and disapparated.

The Requiters stood in shock. Vejovis slowly turned to Gregor Morris.

"B-but..." Morris stammered. "I have his wand!" He held up the stick, perfectly identical to Ron's wand. Then, it transformed into a rubber chicken. Morris could only stare at it haplessly.

"The cylinder is a fake too! Follow them!" Vejovis growled.

10:23:49... 10:23:50... 10:23:51... 10:23:52...

Ron and Hermione landed in a deserted alleyway in London. They stepped out into the light. There were Muggles everywhere, going about their day as if nothing was happening.

"I know the number," said Hermione. "Follow me!"

She grabbed his hand and the pair of them ran to the nearest red phone box. Hermione inserted the coins and dialed the number. Ron kept his wand out and stared out the windows of the little box.

"Any sign of them?" Hermione asked, as it rang.

"Not yet," said Ron.

Hermione listened to the phone ring several times.

"They're not picking up!" she said, frustrated. The phone box interrupted the ringing to ask for more coins.

"Hermione!" said Ron.

Two Requiters were walking out of the alleyway Ron and Hermione came from and were scanning the crowd. One of them locked eyes with Ron in the phone box.

"We need to go!" said Ron.

He ripped open the door and the pair of them ran into the crowd. Cars honked at them when they crossed the road. Several people shouted angrily at them. Ron turned back to see the Requiters hot on their trail.

"We have to get somewhere we can take a stand," said Ron, hurrying around a man lifting a massive box.

"I can't use magic, remember!" said Hermione.

"I know- I know-" said Ron.

They stopped to catch their breath and Ron looked back. The Requiters appeared to be gone for now.

"What's this?" Ron asked. They were standing next to a tall building with plastic sheets covering the windows.

"It's being remodeled," said Hermione, panting. "From the fire."

"Perfect," said Ron. He grabbed her hand and pulled her in.

The Requiters, watching from a distance, saw them.

"Inform the others that we've got them," said one.

10:30:09... 10:30:10... 10:30:11... 10:30:12...

Ron led Hermione into the abandoned lobby. "Hide behind the welcome desk," he instructed. "Find the passage to return the magic and use the phone to call Harry. Keep trying him."

"What about you?" Hermione asked.

"I'm going to draw them away," said Ron, pointing to the stairs.

"No, absolutely not," argued Hermione. "It's too dangerous!"

"Hermione, your magic's not working," argued Ron. "Find the answer and get it to Harry. The sooner you get in touch with him, the sooner they can send reinforcements."

Hermione nodded. "Okay."

Ron smiled. "I love you."

Hermione tried to smile back. "You too."

Ron left her there and ran for the stairwell. As he waited, he faintly heard Hermione turning pages in the spellbook.

Then, they came. The Requiters opened the door with their wands already drawn.

Ron shot a nonverbal Stun at one, who yelped and fell flat on his back. Ron cast several more jinxes, and made a show of running up the staircase. It led to the first floor directly above the welcome desk. He risked a glance down to watch Hermione reading over the spellbook.

"Come on, then!" Ron shouted. "Come at me!"

More Requiters followed them into the building, taking refuge behind the chairs, coffee tables, and potted plants in the waiting area.

Making sure he was in full sight of them, Ron retreated, running to the far end of the building. He found himself in an open area with several cubicles. He waved his wand and magicked them into a somewhat defensible position. He designed it to constantly have something he could take cover behind- a desk or a cubicle wall. Each time he fell back, though, the Requiters could use what he left behind as cover, too.

Ron realized he wasn't going to last long.

He hid behind his first life of defense, a cubicle while. Peering around the corner, he could hear the Requiters thudding up the stairs. As soon as the first one passed the corner, Ron cast a spell on him, and he passed out cold.

They pulled him back and Ron cast a few more spells. Right now he had the advantage. He lost focus though, and a spell shot at him. He dodged it and it hit the cubicle wall behind him.

He retreated to behind the flames and ducked down, underneath a desk. The smoke could work as a screen, hiding him from their attacks. He saw a few pairs of feet advancing past the corner.

He shot burning spells at them, and they collapsed, tearing at their shoes and feet.

Ron checked behind him- there was only about twenty feet between him and the back wall. He was running out of time.

A killing curse struck the desk above him, incinerating it. Ron cast yet another stunning spell in that direction and retreated further.

More and more of the wizards were filling the room now. A few of them ventured into the smoldering ruins of the first cubicle.

Ron was running out of time.

10:38:04... 10:38:05... 10:38:06... 10:38:07...

Hermione was furiously flipping through the spellbook. She could hear the battle raging on the floor above her. She didn't know how much longer Ron could hold them off.

She found one excerpt that looked promising. _The Stolen Magic_

_I wasn't aware what the thief, Jupiter, intended to do with the magic once it was stolen. I committed years of study to the phenomena of "contained magic" after the events. I discovered that once magic is contained it can be destroyed or released. The incantations for both are as folllows. _

Well that's what I'm looking for, thought Hermione. But how to release the magic if you didn't have any magic. She thought back to Vejovis as he recited the incantation to destroy the magic. He hadn't been using a wand... was it possible for someone without magic to do that? Of course not, she chided herself. You have to have magical blood to perform magic. That's basic stuff.

"Crucio!"

She heard the voice, amplified by the effects of the Sonorous Charm, followed immediately by Ron's anguished screaming.

"We know you can hear him!" they shouted.

They were speaking to her.

"Bring the spellbook and the canister and his suffering will end! Crucio!"

Ron screamed harder now.

Think, Hermione. Think! Vejovis didn't need his wand because... because...

Then it hit her. She grabbed the phone at the welcome desk and dialed the number. She listened to it ring once before someone answered. "Hermione?" It was Arthur Weasley's voice.

"Mr. Weasley!" said Hermione. "Thank God! There's an incantation to return the magic!"

"But how can we use it if we don't have magic?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"We can use the magic inside the device!" Hermione said. "Hold the phone to the device, and I'll read the incantation."

"It's there," said Mr. Weasley, quieter, as he wasn't speaking directly into it.

Hermione took the spellbook in her hands, and spoke in a loud clear voice in a language she didn't understand, praying all the while that it would work.

10:53:17... 10:53:18... 10:53:19... 10:53:20...

The crowd was getting angry again. Harry and Shacklebolt were still standing on the fountain, trying to shout over the crowd. Most were shaking their wands angrily. Harry knew they wouldn't do any good, but the sight unnerved him.

"Stand down!" Harry shouted. "I don't want to have to arrest any of you!"

"How would you even?" someone shouted back.

Harry grabbed his own wand, and raised it high. Then, without warning, a spark like a firecracker shot out of it and soared sky high. The whole crowd fell silent.

The canister! Harry turned on his heal and Apparated up to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The wizards there were holding their wands, now lit. Light was returning to the Ministry. Harry ran into the Muggle Artifacts Office and grabbed the receiver.

"Ron?" he asked.

"They've got him!" said Hermione. "They're torturing him! We're at that burned building near the London eye!"

"Hang on!" Harry turned around, ran into the Auror office and grabbed his cloak. He shouted the address to the Aurors around him and disapparated.

He arrived inside the welcome area. Hermione was running to meet him. "They're upstairs!"

More Aurors were arriving now. "Anti-apparition spells," said Harry, and they all obeyed. The building was secure.

Harry charged up the stairs to see about ten-to-twenty Requiters gathered around Ron. They all looked up at him in surprise. "The Magic's back on!" said Harry, and without another word, he shot a stunning spell at the face of the wizard torturing Ron.

The Aurors behind him joined in, stunning and disarming all the Requiters present. They never had a chance to fight back. Most of them dropped their wands in surrender.

Ron stood up weakly, and conjured a rope around the wrists of his torturer. "All of you bastards are going to Azkaban," he said. "Try to Cruciate me again."

Harry was forced to smile. "You alright, Ron?" he asked.

Ron grinned back. "I've been awake for the past thirty hours. I've been arrested, promoted, visited Azkaban, been captive, fought, and been tortured in all that time. Yet after this, I feel bloody brilliant."

10:59:57... 10:59:58... 10:59:59... 11:00:00

END OF ACT 1

For everyone who's stuck with me this long, thank you. To new readers, welcome.

I'm still not halfway done, but this seems as good a place as any for a hiatus. Band and school are starting up, plus I'm already doing The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, which demands a new oneshot every two weeks.

I'll bring this story back in a couple of months with Act 2- just for a teaser, you can expect more corruption in the Ministry trying to stop the House-Elf Liaison Office and more Percy angst. Find out where Vejovis ran off to now that he's realized he's lost and what his plans are for the last device/ cylinder/ canister (I really should have given that damn thing a proper name). And Harry will have another battle of Hogwarts to fight.

Reviews: I loooove Reviews. If you like the story, if you think it's the stupidest thing you've ever wasted your life reading- whatever. Just tell me what you thought.


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